The Girls of New York
by Girls-Of-New-York
Summary: Babysitters, bulls, fires, artists and seamstresses,not to mention a kid who can't seem to keep her hands out of people's pockets...the most unlikely group of friends is constantly getting in and out of trouble with the help of the newsies.
1. Out of the Rain

Disclaimer: We do not own the Newsies or the major plot of this fic. We do own all subplots and original characters and witty humorous remarks. Thank you.

**CHART OF FEMALE ORIGINAL CHARACTER NAMES (to lessen the confusion)**

**Real Name** **Nickname in Story** **NML Name**

ErinSketchMinstrel

Emilyanne SageStargazer

AmberDaydream Daydream

Christin Shades Shades

Jewell Rusty N/A

AshleySpazz Dragonsong

Ellen GimpyN/A

**The Girls of New York**

_By Daydream, Sketch, Sage, Spazz, and Shades_

**Chapter One: Out of the Rain**

She stared out of the window of the shop and sighed. The rain had begun to fall in torrents, sending sheets of water down off of the roof and onto the sidewalk. People on the street ran to their destinations, trying their best to stay out of the summer storm. Nobody entered the small dress shop, where Emilyanne sat quietly, reading War of the Worlds in between gazing at the rain and making sure that her boss was still upstairs, asleep. There hadn't been a customer all morning, and frankly, she knew that she didn't need to be there. However, it was her responsibility to man the counter in case any brave souls decided that they needed a new dress or corset so badly that they would come through the rain to buy one.

She twirled a stray lock of her brown hair around her fingers absentmindedly, already knowing the ending from reading this particular book before. The best part of the book was yet to come, when the main character was reunited with his wife after neither knowing if the other was alive. Emilyanne smiled as she finished the last few pages, and set the book down on the counter. She was now lacking in entertainment for the rest of the afternoon.

Just when she had the thought to leave for her apartment, the bell over the door jingled, and she heard someone enter the shop. She immediately tried to fix her hair back into its original up-do, and put on her "I'm-happy-to-see-you-despite-the-dreary-day" face. But when she reached the front door, her smile died.

Before her stood a teenaged newsboy, who had blood all over his face and shirt, and appeared about ready to collapse. Sure enough, before she could reach him, his knees buckled under him, and several wet, leftover papers fell onto the neatly polished wooden floor. Emilyanne rushed over to him, and tried to find where all of the blood was coming from. His right eye was huge and puffy, and he had a cut over his eyebrow.

"Are you alright? What happened?" She said quickly, and helped him over to a nearby armchair. Then the young man spoke for the first time in a voice riddled with aching.

"Fight. Do you have anything cold I can put on my face?" He turned his one good eye to meet hers. She looked away nervously, and busied herself with examining the cut.

"I'm sure that I can find something. Let me see your eye again, I don't think that it's seriously injured, the rain just makes everything look worse than it is," She said consolingly, and left to wet a spare rag, her long pink skirt swishing behind her. When she returned with a washcloth and some alcohol, the boy ran a hand through his dark brown hair, making it stand up in various directions. He caught the strong scent of the alcohol, and grimaced. She smiled reassuringly at his face, and gingerly started dabbing the cut with the wet cloth. He winced as the alcohol burned on the wound.

"May I ask whose cut I am tending to?" Emilyanne said, and blew gently on the cut, trying to get the stinging to stop.

"I'm Michael, better known as Skittery to my friends," Michael took deep breaths to deal with the pain. Then he decided to continue the conversation, "What's your name?"

"I'm Emilyanne. Unfortunately, I haven't yet had the honor of being bestowed with a nickname," She joked, and once she was happy with the progress of the cut's healing, she laid the cloth over Michael's eye. She then took his hand in hers, and set his over the cloth to hold it in place.

Emilyanne withdrew and brought a chair over to face the newsie. She also brought over a water-cress sandwich that she had been saving for lunch. She gave half to the young man, who devoured it quickly. He sat back against the chair and sighed.

"Is it alright if I call you Skittery, or would you rather me call you Michael?" She said, and began to twirl her hair between two fingers again.

"Well, I haven't heard anyone call me Michael in years. So you can just call me Skittery. No need to break the tradition," Skittery said almost ruefully, and Emilyanne didn't question him further about the strange choice of nickname.

"How did you find your way to the shop, Skittery? This doesn't seem like a place that would promise good healthcare. I know for a fact that there is a doctor's office located a block south," She said, attempting to divert his attention. There was a pause. Suddenly, Skittery's depressed face disappeared, and a smile began to form at the corners of his mouth. Emilyanne blushed; he most certainly wasn't unfortunate-looking.

"Well, do you want the truth? Or would you rather have the lie I was going to tell you if I got too nervous?" Skittery asked, his single brown eye giving her an inquisitive look.

"I tend to believe that the truth is better in most situations, this one included," Emilyanne said slowly, not really knowing which version she'd rather have. It was more than likely that both were lies.

"Good, I was hoping you would say that. Well, this guy from Queens , he met up with me in an alley earlier today. He said that he had a perfect job opportunity for me. Of course, being the fool I am, I believed him," Skittery sighed heavily and continued, "Anyway, the deal went bad, and I got pretty beat-up in the process. It was really raining, so I tried to find somewhere to sit down and get cleaned up. I recognized this store from a few days ago, when I sold over here, and saw you going inside. So I came in here when I had the chance. I thought you might be here, and I wanted to see you again."

Emilyanne smiled to herself and lowered her face to the floor modestly. Apparently, he had taken a liking to her. She made sure to keep her composure.

"I see. Well, I am glad that you decided to join me. I just finished my book, and I needed someone to talk to. My boss is upstairs, asleep, like she usually is on a day like this. I'm left to fend for myself," She said the last part with exaggerated sadness, but was unable to keep her face serious, and ended up laughing at her own silliness.

"Why are you laughing?" Skittery said, unable to keep a straight face himself, and cracking a small smile of his own.

"I don't know, just an attempt at humor, I suppose. It obviously didn't go the way I wanted it to...," Emilyanne trailed off and looked at her hands in her lap.

"I don't mind, smiling makes for a nice change," Skittery said with a small shrug.

"Why? Do you not usually smile?" Emilyanne had returned to twirling her hair.

"Emilyanne, when you're like me, there isn't much to smile about," Skittery said and motioned to his wounded eye.

"I always thought that being a newsie would be fun. You'd have the opportunity to run around the city streets and be with friends...," She gazed at the ceiling for a few moments, as if thinking about something. She was brought back after Skittery cleared his throat quietly. She shook her head slightly, and continued calmly, "I always thought that it would be very exciting."

Skittery laughed out loud at this. Emilyanne thought that this was a nice change from his gloomy face earlier.

"Being a newsie is anything but exciting or fun. We work in all weathers, and we get no gratitude from anybody. I barely make a living. But you're right about one thing. You do get to be with friends," Skittery nodded firmly, and sat back farther into the chair.

"I still think it would be exciting," Emilyanne said stubbornly. Then she decided to voice something that she was very curious about, "You never fully answered my question, though. Why did you choose to come into this shop, when there are places to fix your cut elsewhere?"

"Like I said, I wanted to talk to you. You caught my eye. I usually don't see girls like you working. They're usually being waited on by others. I wondered why a pretty young woman like you didn't have someone opening doors for you," Skittery said honestly. Emilyanne tried to hide her glowing face by talking some more.

"You're right about one thing; I most definitely don't have anybody making money for me. I have to do that by myself. But everything else, I don't know if that's true. You can't even see me fully, " She said in an amused voice, smiling almost a little too widely.

"I know I'm right," Skittery said, "And I can see you with both eyes."

He lowered the cloth from his eye, and attempted to lift the swollen lid. Emilyanne immediately got up to make sure he didn't damage his eye more than it already was. She tutted him softly, and held the cloth in place. Skittery moved his hand up to hold the cloth, but when Emilyanne tried to move her hand out from under his, he held her firmly in place. She blushed furiously, and she was glad that he couldn't see her red face.

"I've got one," Skittery said simply, turning his head, so that he could see her out of his good eye. Emilyanne waited patiently for him to finish, wondering what he could possibly be talking about.

"I know what your nickname can be. You seem like a pretty smart girl- you did fix my cut. You can also fix a very good water-cress sandwich," Skittery said in jest, while Emilyanne smiled. Skittery finished his thought, "How about Sage?"

He nodded, obviously rather proud of his choice. Emilyanne's blue eyes finally met Skittery's brown one.

"That sounds good to me."


	2. Talk of Adventure

Disclaimer: Again, Girls of New York do not own Newsies. We could wish and wish and beg and plead but it would never happen, so we must be forced to accept the fact: we do not own Newsies.

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It was a bright and dream-like day in New York. The sky was a pure blue and there wasn't a cloud to be seen.

Christin worked in a clothing factory. Even though it was dirty, hot, and hard work, she had to get the money. Right now, Christin was living in an apartment next to the Jacobs.

This morning Christin had woken up and gotten ready for work, then left for another long day at the factory. There was one thing about her job that she loved, though. Everyday Christin would get a visit from a newsie named Jack, and she would buy her morning paper from him. Christin liked the visits from Jack because, since she had look after the smaller children who work in the factory, she enjoyed the company of someone her own age once and a while. Every so often, Jack would come by more then once a day, even though, as a result, he wouldn't have as much time to sell papers.

On this particular day, she had bought her paper from Jack and they talked about everything that was going on with each other. As usual, they were talking about what they wanted to do if they ever got the chance to get out of the city. Usually Jack said that he wanted to leave and go out West, perhaps to Santa Fe.

"Would you come to Santa Fe with me if the time ever comes?" Jack asked Christin.

"I would like to leave this dirty city but I just can't leave my family and then never see them again. If I didn't have a family here, then I would be open to the idea. Really, I would, but I have obligations here." Christin shrugged regretfully, and continued, "And what would I do out there? I don't have any skills in protecting myself. I'm sure it would be a great adventure, though. Jack, is Santa Fe all you ever think about?"

Jack was confused. "No, why do you say that?"

Christin answered angrily, "Because that's all you ever talk about, don't think that I don't hear you singing about it outside after you leave."

Jack was furious. "I don't talk about it all the time or think about it all the time either."

"Oh, really? Name one time when you haven't," Christin said sarcastically.

"Now, because I'm thinking of you," Jack muttered under his breath.

Now Christin was confused. "What did you say?"

Jack mumbled, "Never mind."

Suddenly, the bell rang for work to begin. Christin sighed, "Well, I have to go."

"Will I see you later?" Jack questioned the brunette.

Christin was still feeling a little miffed. "I don't know, maybe."

As she left, she tried to keep frowning, but she started to grin at the thought of the few words she had heard. Christin walked away, and didn't catch him as Jack whispered "I hope I see you later."


	3. The Babysitter

Disclaimer: We do not own newsies. Us being Daydrem, Sketch, Spazz, and Stargazer. But happily, we own oursleves.

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Ashley Conlon, known to her friends as Spazz, woke suddenly, startled out of a contented slumber by a not-so-gentle poke in the ribs.

"Spot, darling, wonderful brother of mine," she growled, eyes still shut, "I'm gonna kill you..."

"Ah, stuff it Ash," Spot Conlon, self proclaimed "king" of the Newsies replied, "Get up. Now." Glancing out the window, Spazz saw that it was still dark.

"Dammit, Spot, ya know we can sleep later 'dan this!" she said angrily, burying her head in the pillow.

"Yeah, yeah... but I need ya ta sell for both us today."

"Uh… why?" Ashley asked, looking up.

"Ah'll tell ya latah, just get up," and he walked out. Grumbling and plotting a thousand hideous revenges, she threw back her tattered blanket, set her feet on the floor, and promptly tripped over her boots. She wasn't called "Spazz" for nothing.

Down on the street, she caught up with Spot long enough to get him to explain.

Sighing, he answered, "We's got a big fight wit Harlem today, so I need you ta sell my papes. Here," and he tossed her two bits.

"An' I suppose you're gonna say I can't come," she said, rolling her eyes.

"O' course you're not! I can't risk yous gettin' hurt an' all!" Spot replied.

"Oh come on, you taught me how to fight! I'm involved in this too! Sort of…!" she turned slightly red remembering. Of course, it hadn't been the only thing that caused the "war," but the incident of her accidentally knocking the Harlem head newsie off the dock sure hadn't helped things.

"No. I need yas ta sell 'da papes anyways; now go!"

Grumbling, she walked up the street to the distribution center, bought her papes, and stalked off. Ashley stuck around the market, selling papers to customers and occasionally snitching something out of one of the stands. Counting her papers and munching on a handful of peanuts, she struggled to think of a way to help Brooklyn. Her rational self told her not to risk Spot's wrath, but she still wanted to be involved. She had always been considered sort of an outsider to the Brooklyn newsie gang, mostly because she was a girl. Finally, she made up her mind; she'd head down in the general direction of the fight, selling her papers as she went. If she finished selling by the time she got there, she'd join. And I can always say I didn't know where the fight was, she thought, and headed to the Harlem/Brookyn boundary. Newsie fights attracted as many people as boxing matches, so Ashley figured there was a good chance of ditching all her papers

Sure enough, a large crowd of people were gathered around the square. Hurriedly selling her last few papes, she ran into the mob. Before she knew it, Ashley was immersed in the fight. A Harlem Newsie came up behind her and got her in a full Nelson. Driving her elbow into his stomach, she spun around and punched him in the jaw. Spot's lessons hadn't been in vain. Before he got up again, she moved on. An hour later, Ashley's luck ran out. Once again, true to her nickname, when stepping backwards from an opponent, she tripped and fell into a corner. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a walking stick whistling towards her head.

"Ash! Come on," a hand was lightly slapping her cheeks.

"Uh?" she sat up rubbing her head; the square was deserted. She looked up and saw Spot standing over her, silhouetted by the sun. "Heh heh, hey Spot." Spot's relieved face clouded and he started berating her.

"I told ya ta stay away from here!" he yelled, furious. "You could 'a been killed!"

"So?" Ashley said defiantly, picking her cap off the ground and dusting it off, "You can't tell me what to do."

"Sure I can, I'm ya brother, now get back to da lodgin' house now!"

Later that night in the Newsies lodging house, Spot was still lecturing her. "If I can't trust ya to stay out of dis stuff, I'm gonna have to send ya somewheres else!"

"WHAT! You can't send me away!"

"Sure I can, and I will. Tomorrow, you're goin' to Manhattan. Jackie-boy'll send someone ta pick you up," and he left the room, leaving no time for discussion. Both of them went to bed mad that night.

The next morning, Ashley stalked down the stairs, asking sourly as she walked around the corner, "So Spot, dearest brother of mine, who's da babysitter?"

"He is," Spot answered, pointing, and suddenly, she didn't feel quite as reluctant as she had before. A tall, blonde young man with an eye patch on his left eye was standing there looking uncomfortable. Looking down at her dingy clothes, she felt a little uncomfortable herself.

"Erm, hi. I'm Kid Blink. Nice ta meet ya." he said, smiling nervously, thinking, What am I doing here? This is Spot Conlon's sister! Something's gonna happen to her an' he'll send his minions after me or something…

"Nice to meet ya too Blink, people call me Spazz." She stepped forward and tripped on her untied shoelace. "Heh…sorry."

"Well, um, I guess we should be going then."

"Yeah, bye Spot."

Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, Ashley kept up a stream of meaningless patter about how every rock, plank, and shoelace was out to get her. "An' then they're gonna finally stop toying with me an' make me fall off a pier an' drown or somethin'…" she was finishing. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"Well," Blink said, clearing his throat, "Why don't ya tell me a bit more about yoself?"

"Ya mean, other than the fact that I'll die young out of clumsiness?" she asked jokingly.

He chuckled, "Yeah…I figured that…" "You sure you want ta hear me ramble some more?" she asked ruefully, but at his nod of assent, she continued talking. "Spot's and my parents died when we were kids, they caught some disease on the way here from Ireland," she continued, "and we've been living in da lodgin' house sellin' papes in Brooklyn ever since. Got dis from da experience." she said, showing him the long scar running down her cheek. "I got mugged fo' my pape money one day. Dat's when Spot started giving me fighting lessons, not tha' he lets me use them." She scowled at the cobblestones.

"Heh… yeah, I hear that's why you're goin' ta Manhattan." He said, giving her a half-smile. "So, yous said your name was Spazz right?"

"Yeah..."

"What's yo real name?" he asked, curious.

"Oh... Ashley."

"Hmm, I think I like dat one bettah. Can I call yah Ash?" Blink asked shyly.

"'Course! Spot does."

Finally, they arrived in Manhattan. The pair strolled down the street, exchanging small talk. On the way to the distribution center, they passed a tall, brown-haired newsie and a girl in a pink skirt.

"Hey! Skitts!" Blink shouted. The newsie turned around, grinning.

"Hi... and who's dis?" Skittery asked, looking at Ashley.

"Oh, dis's Spot's sister, Ashley."

"But you can call me Spazz if ya want," she cut in.

"Well, heya Spazz! Dis here's Sage," she waved shyly. "Well, I bettah be goin', you should hurry and get some papes while dey still have 'em."

"Alright, see ya," Blink said. And the two couples set off again. Of course, when Blink and Spazz finally made it to the distribution center, they were out.

"Tough luck!" Mr. Weasel shouted from his office, "You shoulda come sooner!" and he disappeared behind his desk.

"So... you wanna go ta Medda's?" Blink asked.

"Who's?" Ashley asked, confused.

"A vaudeville theatre, she lets da newsies in free."

"Yeah, sure, I've never been to a show."

"Really? Well you're about ta get a treat."

Blink was right, the show was great, and Ashley got great amusement from seeing him swing off the box, singing High Times Hard Times. However, when he was climbing back up, his foot slipped. Leaping forward, she caught his hand and hauled him back in. Once again, however, she (of course) fell and they both went sprawling on the floor.

"Sorry!" Ashley said, blushing and clutching her side laughing more out of nerves then anything at yet another mishap. "But I warned you earlier right?"

"Yeah," he said, slightly pale, but laughing as well. "Come on, let's get outta here."

They both walked in silence to the newsie lodging house. After showing her where to sign in, Blink escorted to her room.

"Here ya go, Kloppman always keeps a place open fo' da last minute patrons," he said, jokingly pompous-sounding.

"Thanks," Ashley said, turning to face him. The light behind him silhouetted his profile for an instant, casting shadows across his features. On an impulse, Blink leaned in, kissed her quickly on the cheek, and ran out and down the stairs, coloring. Smiling slightly, Ashley shut her door.

The next morning she woke up early; she had been thrown off by Spot's early wake-up call the day before. Ashley took her time getting dressed, then strolled down the stairs. She was caught by surprise by the loud and not altogether unpleasant chorus of all the newsboys. She watched in amusement as some of the earlier risers ran, jumped, and skipped out the door. After a few minutes, she saw Blink heading out.

"Hey Blink wait up would ya?" she asked hopping off the third step to the floor, "I thought you were gonna leave witout me fo' a minute."

"Er, well... About last night..."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Ashley said, flushing a little.

"But…"

"Really, don't worry!" she interrupted, smiling, "Ta tell ya da truth..." she broke off.

They started up the street in a companionable silence, stopping quickly for a piece of bread from the usual assemblage of nuns then heading on. As Blink slipped his hand into hers, Ashley found herself thinking she might be making many more trips to Manhattan in the future.

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Thanks for the reviews everyone! It's extremely awesome.


	4. Pickpocket on the Run

We do not own Newsies...we do not own Newsies...we do not own Newsies. Maybe If I repeat it enough it wont be true.

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It was just another sunny, typical, cliché' New York afternoon. The markets were bustling, the shops were hopping and a certain pickpocket was running as fast as her not-so-long legs would take her.

"Come back here, you little urchin!" A dumpy man in a plum suit shrieked after her retreating form. Daydream whipped around and gave him a jaunty salute with the hand that held his matching plum wallet. A police whistle screamed and she was off again, her denim bag slapping against her back as she dodged in and out of the crowds. Behind her, the officer was huffing along at a steady pace. He was followed by the businessman who was gasping for breath while his buttons threatened to pop off in rebellion against the physical exertion. Daydream dashed around a push-cart, snatching a piping hot pretzel off the rack as she went. She hissed in pain before stuffing it and her burnt fingers into her mouth.

The owner shook his fist in the air, his face contorting in fury. "Hey, you, get back here. You didn't pay for that!"

"It ain't very good anyway!" Daydream shouted back, her words distorted by the bread in her mouth. Too much pretzel and not enough salt, she thought privately while trying not to choke while running.

"Stop her!" the police officer commanded, swinging an official arm in the air. Daydream grinned and looked over her shoulder.

"Who, me?" she quipped with an impish air, cocking her head to the side. The officer made a flustered noise at the pickpocket's cheekiness. The businessman had dropped out of the chase all together, leaving the capture to the well-paid law enforcer whose duty it was to catch such horrendous criminals. Daydream's boots pounded out a steady rhythm as she scampered down the street. She was leading her shadow in a ridiculously long game of follow-the-leader and was quickly becoming bored. A fire escape caught her eye and she veered off towards it, an extra spurt of adrenaline helping her on her way. The officer roared furiously as the girl grabbed onto the bottom rung of the ladder, climbing up it as naturally as a cat up a tree.

"Get down here!" the policeman demanded, his skin turning an ugly shade of enraged red. His huge brown moustache twitched back and forth as he glared up at her. Daydream leaned over the rooftop wall above. Hazel eyes gleaming with mischief, she held up the stolen wallet then dropped it over the edge. It landed with a thud on the officer's black bowler hat, jamming the rim down around his eyes.

"Thanks for the exercise, sir," she exclaimed, sticking the hard-earned money into her trouser pocket, "but I've got otha business to attend to." The little thief skipped off across the rooftop, lifted her cap to a startled housewife who was hanging up her laundry, and walked across the boards to the roof next door. Heights didn't bother her anymore after spending a few months as a window-cleaner back when she was fourteen. At seventeen, Daydream was an up and coming jack-of-all-trades, a job title that had, for the last half of her life, found her working in a plethora of both pleasurable and miserable careers that did nothing for her so-called reputation. So far she had been a maid, a house cleaner, a chimney sweep, a factory worker, a window cleaner, a laundress, a seamstress, an actress, a musician, a pickpocket, and on a few dangerous excursions, a cat burglar. She loved adding to the list; it was becoming a hobby just to see how many jobs she could dabble in at one time. At the moment, she was working as a shoe-shiner on 42nd and a back-up singer in at a semi-respectable vaudeville in Midtown. Not to mention her occasional pick-pocketing adventures that she indulged in just to spice things up.

Daydream whistled a lively tune as she dropped off another escape ladder a few buildings down. She took her bag off her shoulder and began to riffle through it, taking out a dark blue skirt. A scowl marred her childishly cute features. Daydream did not like skirts at all; she was always tripping over the hem. Muttering angrily, she pulled it on over her pants then, letting the skirt cover any indecencies, yanked her pants off. It was a maneuver perfected over years of changing clothes in record time. She balled up the pants and stuffed them back into the bag along with her favorite blue vest and cabby hat. She tucked her blouse into her skirt. Running her fingers through her thick tangles of blond hair, she smoothed it out before tugging it into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. If she was even planning on making another theft today, she couldn't look the same; the bulls were probably all on a look out for a little blond person in a blue cap running the other way. Grinning at her own cleverness, Daydream strutted out of the alley with an air of hoity-toity aristocracy. Unfortunately, someone was running in the exact path where she was walking. There was a magnificent crash and Daydream was thrown backwards onto the cobblestone. She looked up and gasped in disbelief; it was the police officer. He looked at her suspiciously for a minute before his eyes landed on her denim bag. Immediately color began to rise in his cheeks and he began fumbling for his billy stick; he had recognized her.

"You!" he spluttered, spitting into his moustache. Daydream bit her bottom lip. Getting out of this one was going to be fun…

"Um, no?" she said, scrambling to her feet. The officer blinked rapidly at her then scowled.

"Shut up, girl," he snarled and reached for her. He was about three inches away when she let out an ear-shattering shriek, starling him into leaping backwards. Taking the chance, Daydream burst off down the street, creating obstacles out of boxes and crates as she went. The sky above had taken a nasty turn, thunderheads massing to make a dark quilt of clouds. She dreaded the first roll of thunder; heights might not scare her but thunderstorms did. She suddenly wondered what time it was; she was supposed to be at singing practice at the vaudeville by one o'clock. She looked around to see if anyone nearby was sporting a watch. Sure enough, a short Italian boy in a horribly clashing blue and brown plaid outfit was walking her way, a gold watch chain snaking out of his vest pocket. Daydream glanced behind her to make sure that a short break would not be too endangering to her escape. Luckily, the officer was lagging far behind, puffing along like a dying steam engine. She snickered and slowed down to a nice lope. She plastered a pleasant smile on her face as the gap between her and the boy closed.

"Heya," she greeted him congenially," You wouldn't happen to have the time, would you?"

"For youse, sweetcheeks," he replied with a lopsided smirk, "I've got all the time in the world." Daydream rolled her eyes at the corny line but considered the fact that the smirk was handsome on him. "So where youse goin' so fast?"

"Midtown," she said. His smirk widened and she decided that she really liked that look.

"Really? That's where I'm goin' too," he exclaimed. "Pretty ding like youse shouldn't be runnin' around town by your self, y'know. Neva know what'll happen." He took his time pulling out the pocket watch while Daydream kept throwing increasingly panicked looks over her shoulder. The cop was getting closer, still swinging his billy stick to clear the way. His out-of-breath shouts were slowly becoming audible. Desperate, Daydream stuck her arm through the boy's.

"Well then, you can be my escort, c'mon!" She tugged hard, dragging him along behind her as she raced across the street. A cart almost ran them down, the horse sending up a frantic whinny as they darted out in front of it. The driver yelled out a round of colorful obscenities. "Sorry!" Daydream shouted back as the rain began to drizzle. By now, the boy had figured out what was going on and was, rightfully, furious.

"What the hell do ya think youse doin'!" he yelled at her, dark brown eyes dark with confusion and rage.

"Kidnappin' you, I guess." She suddenly grinned. "I really don't know, what the hell do you think I'm doin'?"

"I dunno, going for a Sunday romp in the park?" he snapped.

"It's not Sunday and we're not in a park," Daydream informed him brightly. She had let go of his arm by now but he hadn't stopped running. 'Too bad for him,' she thought, 'that bull must've seen him by now.' "So, where in Midtown are you headed?"

"What!" The boy looked at her in disbelief. "I'm runnin' from the bulls for Gawd knows what reason 'cause you," he pointed his finger at her, "some crazy goil I don't even knows, 'kidnaps' me and you wanna know where I'm goin'!"

"Yeah, that's about it," Daydream replied, panting a little. The boy gave an incredulous laugh.

"Is dis some kind of ding dat 'appens to youse normally or did youse just wake up dis mornin' and decide 'Hey, I feel like ruinin' somebody's day!'?" he demanded. Daydream shook her head, ponytail whishing around her face.

"Look, you still haven't answered my question and we're almost at the end of the block. Now where are you going!" she yelled at him, her already big eyes widening.

"Left, go left!" he shouted back and both of them turned on their heels. "And I'm not goin' anywheres, I'm lookin' foah someone!" Instinctively, he pulled a couple of crates over, creating an instant obstacle for the very determined cop.

"But that means you're goin' somewheres right?" The boy just stared. "I mean, if you're lookin' for somebody you gotta find 'em somewhere." They were now running right beside each other in an easy jog, making it easier to keep up a conversation.

"Don't be a smartass," he snarled. Daydream smiled puckishly.

"Fine, then, I'll just be smart," she said. He snickered, amused at her quick answer. They ran for a few more blocks until they lost the cop somewhere in a marketplace. That was when the bottom dropped out of the clouds, soaking anyone that was unlucky enough to be caught out in the open. The pair tried to hide under a store awning but they were cleared out by the well-to-do owner. Stuck walking through the rain, they resolved themselves to being completely drenched. Daydream grinned at the boy, rain dripping off her cheeks and the ends of her hair.

"That was fun!" she chimed.

"You're crazy," the boy said but there was laughter in his voice. "Here, wear this." He handed her his sopping wet newsie cap. She cocked her head at him as she took it.

"Thank you." Giggling, she made a show of wringing it out and sticking it on her head. They walked a little ways, him leading and her following. He stopped outside of a crumbling building.

"Well, this is it," he said, looking at the door.

"I guess it is," she replied then started chuckling.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You never gave me the time," she giggled. He laughed and looked at his pocket watch.

"It's two forty-five," he told her. Daydream sighed; she had completely missed practice.

"Well, it's been fun…" She blinked at him rapidly, suddenly realizing that, in all of her inquisitiveness, had never asked in his name. He smirked again; Daydream was starting to understand that this was his favorite facial expression.

"Racetrack. My name's Racetrack."

"Hmm, Racetrack," she pondered, looking up into the rain. "I think I like that."

"Youse think ya like it?" Racetrack ran a hand through his dripping black hair and snorted. "Youse're definitely not like otha goils."

"That's the point," Daydream replied with a teasing smile. As she turned to leave, she was stopped short as a hand landed on her arm. She slowly turned around. Racetrack's dark brown eyes were gleaming with humor.

"Ya know, when someone tells ya dere name, dollface, it's good mannas to give 'em yours," he said, not letting go of her arm. She grinned at him.

"Daydream. My name's Daydream," she exclaimed, giving him the street name she always went by. Racetrack looked up at the sky, mimicking what she had done earlier.

"I like dat," he finally said.

"Good," Daydream chirped and then shuffled her feet together, suddenly at a loss for words. "Well, um, thanks for everything, Racetrack." She stuck out her hand. "You really didn't have to run all that way with me." Racetrack shrugged good-naturedly.

"I was your escort, 'memba?" He bowed dramatically, flourishing his hand in the air. "It was mostly my pleasoire, m'dam." He took her hand, kissed it, then caught her eyes with his. "And I would gladly have it be my pleasoire again." Daydream blushed red and took her hand away.

"Bye, Racetrack," she said, turning and skipping away down the sidewalk, bursting out with a merry whistle as she did. She was already across the street when she heard Racetrack shout out, "Hey Day!"

"What?" she shouted back, earning the condescending stares of several passersby's.

"What about my hat!" Daydream reached up and felt the worn blue newsie hat that was still on her head. She burst out laughing and waved him good-bye.

"You can have it back next time I see you!"


	5. Flash from the Past

Discalimer: We don't own newsies, yadda, yadda. I'm going tobe tired of that by the end...

so yes, we're going to go back to Emilyanne for a bit in the interests of chronological order. Hope you enjoy it!

The next few days were perfect in the eyes of Emilyanne. She had found a companion in the depressed but adorable Skittery. As luck would have it, they had many of the same opinions on things and shared a love for music. Her thin façade of shyness was broken by his patience and kindness to her, and she was soon very open with him about almost everything.

By and by, the two became virtually inseparable. They would meet in Central Park each evening, after Skittery had finished selling and Emilyanne had gotten off of work. The couple would discuss their daily observations, and enjoy the feeling of just being together. One day, about three weeks after their initial meeting in the shop, the talk turned to their pasts, a subject that had been carefully avoided by both parties.

"So, Sage, is there some kind of story behind those blue eyes of yours? Or are you just another New Yorker starved for money?" Skittery said jokingly, and held Emilyanne's hand in his as they slowly made their usual path around the lake. She smiled, but was hesitant about revealing her gloomy past to Michael.

"Actually, no, I'm not a native New Yorker. I thought my accent gave that away," Emilyanne said unhurriedly, still trying to steer clear of the subject. Skittery shrugged casually, but gave her a look that communicated his obvious interest in her history. Emilyanne continued, "I am originally from Georgia. My father owned a plantation near Savannah that had been in the family for several generations. My family was fairly wealthy, but after the Civil War, we slowly had to lease sections of land to farmers to continue to provide for ourselves in the way we were accustomed to. Eventually, after I was born, we only had about twenty acres to ourselves, which was a very small amount compared to the 350 acres we had owned at the beginning of the century. Then, one night about 4 years ago, I awoke to smoke filling my bedroom."

Emilyanne halted briefly here, and took a deep breath to regain her self-control. She wasn't going to allow herself to shed tears yet again over the event that had haunted her since she was fifteen. Skittery waited patiently for her to finish, not wanting to push her into giving more information than she wanted to share. Finally, she continued, not daring to look at the young man that strolled beside her in the fear that she would lose her power over her emotions.

"I left the house as fast as I could through an open window, but I was the only one who made it out. I learned from the firemen dispatched to our home that the fire was deliberately set. Apparently, my father had been stealing money from the farmers who cultivated the leased land. The farmers got angry and shot my parents before setting fire to their bedroom. My parents were already dead as I was trying to escape."

Skittery had no idea how to respond to this dark tale. He simply looked over at her in astonishment, and noticed a tear sliding down her face before she speedily reached up to brush it away. He was about to say something comforting when she spoke again.

"I heard about a need for seamstresses in a factory in Maryland, but accidentally got on a train to New York instead a few days later. I got here, and decided to stay, especially after finding a job in Mrs. Stevenson's dress shop. She was very kind to me, and saw through my grief that was still very fresh at that time. She hired me, and I have been living here ever since," Emilyanne finished her story, and smiled at what she decided to say next. "Then I met a young man who called himself Skittery, and it was in that moment that I was certain that this is exactly where I should be."

Skittery grinned at Sage. This girl, who was so full of ghastly memories herself, could make him smile. That, in his opinion, was a miracle.

"Well, Mr. Skittery, I feel that since I have divulged my story to you, that you should show your chivalrous side and reciprocate in kind," Emilyanne said playfully, pushing aside any disheartening emotions that she may have felt earlier.

Skittery thought briefly about what he should say, then decided to dive into his life story, which seemed like naught compared to her tragic account.

"I'm very sorry about what happened to your parents. If it makes you feel any better, I never knew my parents. They left me at my aunt's doorstep when I was about three months old and never looked back. I lived with that witch and went to school like a good little boy until I was ten, when I decided to take up the admirable trade of being a newsie. I left her house in New Jersey, and never looked back. I met up with Jack and the others a week later when I reached Manhattan, and I finally felt like I belonged somewhere," Skittery stated. Emilyanne smirked.

"Don't kid yourself. I may not have known you very long, but I have learned to tell when you're hiding something. That 'Jack' was definitely weighted with something. I feel that I should have the right to know what that 'something' is," Emilyanne looked pointedly at Skittery, who sighed noticeably.

"You know me too well," He replied in mock unhappiness, but continued anyway. "When I was seventeen, I was a very well-respected person in our group of newsboys. The leader of our group, known as Joe to most of us, decided to leave the group and get married to this girl he had met. As one of the older members of our gang, I was instantly favored for the newly opened position as leader. I was selling about 1500 papes a week, without any effort at all. I was just talented in that way. Then came Jack's big rescue from the Refuge. All of the newsies got together and unanimously voted Jack the leader. Well, it was almost unanimous- my best friend, Kid Blink voted for me instead of Jack. Ever since then, I've been pissed that a guy three years younger than me was given the right to boss me around. Nobody else seems to mind, though."

Emilyanne squeezed Skittery's hand in what she thought was an encouraging gesture. However, when Skittery broke away suddenly, and plopped down under a tree, she was confused. He huffed noisily, and Emilyanne went to sit beside him.

"I'm sorry Skitts," She said, using a nickname she hadn't used before to get his attention. He continued to sulk while she tried to get his mind off of things.

"Look, I know that I don't know anything about being a newsie, but I know that you are very smart. I also know that you would be a great leader. It seems that your friend, Kid Blink, knows this too."

She gently turned his head to face her, and looked him in the eye. He raised an eyebrow at her uncharacteristic boldness.

"You don't have to take orders from anyone. You make your life what it is. This is a hard thing to learn, but once I was on my own, this was forced upon me. I had to make my own destiny," She told him sensibly. When her moment of passion for his well-being had passed, she realized exactly where she was.

Her hand was resting on his cheek, and they were very close together, closer than she had ever been to him. She could see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes that you couldn't see from the usual distance. She wanted to gaze into the depths of those gorgeous hazel eyes forever, but her introversion returned without warning. She drew away quickly, and looked away nervously, muttering a soft apology. She began twirling her hair around her fingers like she usually did when she was nervous.

Skittery silently grinned at Sage's sudden uneasiness, and put his hand over the one in which she was rapidly twirling her golden-brown hair. She immediately stopped her twirling, but still was too embarrassed to look at him again.

"You don't have to apologize, you know," Skittery said, and put his hand under her chin so that she again looked into his eyes. "I don't mind."

Emilyanne smiled, if somewhat self-consciously. Without warning, Skittery had placed his lips over hers, and all thoughts of embarrassment left her mind, replaced by only the feeling of bliss that the soft kiss left her with.

When she broke away regretfully, the sun was beginning to set.

"I had better head back. I have to work tomorrow," She said remorsefully. Skittery nodded silently.

"I want you to meet the rest of the gang tomorrow. I'm sure they'd love to meet you," Skittery said, again taking Emilyanne's hand in his.

"I'd like that," Emilyanne replied simply, leaning her head against his strong shoulder. They began to make their way back to her apartment, hand-in-hand.


	6. Les is More

Disclaimer: We don't own Newsies. Yes, so depressing I can't even think of something semi-funny to say about it.

Erin laughed and watched the newsies running down the street, leaping over barrels, singing and dancing, without a care in the world. She waved to Mush and Jack as they ran by, then began walking again. She usually bought her paper from one of them, depending who found her first on her way to school. She loved walking this way, because hearing their morning song always cheered her up. She was about a couple of blocks from school when Jack finally caught up with her. She turned and smiled, "Took you longer this morning".

He grinned and clapped a young man on the shoulder, someone she hadn't ever noticed with the newsies before. "Got me some new selling partners." Then he ruffled a little boy's hair. "Right, Les?"

"Right Cowboy!" The boy grinned, nearly hopping in his excitement. Erin laughed then extended her hand. "Hello, Les."

"Hi." He barely paid attention, as he was looking at Jack with something close to hero-worship. She straightened up, and then looked at the young man next to Jack. He was a nice-looking boy, with curly brown hair and light blue eyes. She also noticed how carefully and tastefully he was dressed compared to the other newsies. He blushed and took off his cap, extending his other hand.

"Pleasure to meet you ma'am. My name is David".

She smiled at him, "The pleasure is all mine David, and my name is Erin". Her smile turned into a grin. "Please don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel like an old lady."

"Okay." He smiled back at her. Jack was growing impatient, and sensing a break in the conversation, he interrupted.

"So you want your pape?"

"Oh yes. I almost forgot!" She pulled her pocket change out, then gave it to him. She carefully folded her paper in between her books to read later, than looked up.

David was watching her inquisitively. "So do you work around here?"

"No, I used to work at the Smith Clothing factory, but my brother got promoted high enough at his factory that he could afford to send me back to school." She smiled dreamily. "I always loved learning, and one day I would like to impart that love to other students, as a teacher." She blushed, realizing that she had drifted off on a tangent, one of her many bad habits.

"So, your brother takes care of you?" He seemed rather surprised.

"Yes, he's my only family."

"Oh, I'm sorry" He winced at his callousness, and then quickly changed the subject. "I liked school too, my favorite subject was history. I especially loved the rebellions and things liked that."

"Really?" Now it was her turn to be surprised, she didn't often meet guys that actually liked school.

"Yes, I was still taking classes up until a couple of days ago."

"Why'd you stop?" she asked curiously.

He sighed, "My father was in an accident at the factory, so I have to earn some money till he can go back to work." He shrugged his shoulders. "If I want to go back to school, that is."

"That's true," she replied wistfully, "I always thought being a newsie looked like fun".

Jack grinned, "That's 'cause they cant help having a good time when I'm around." This resulted in some good-natured shoving between Jack and David. Erin laughed, and turned to leave, when a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

She turned, and David's blue eyes stared intensely into her own. She shuddered slightly, for it was a bit unnerving.

"Don't give up on it, if that's what you want to do" he said fiercely, "You never know what could happen." He released her and grinned, and suddenly Erin could see his underlying confidence, intelligence, and maturity. She smiled, knowing that with that particular mixture of traits, he would grow up to be a very successful person, in whatever he chose to do. His words were strangely powerful too, they made her feel as if something was going to drastically change in her life, and soon.

Later that day, as she was leaving school, she was surprised to see him waiting outside.

"David!" She looked at him inquiringly. "What are you doing here?"

He laughed. "Actually, me and Jack were on the way to my house and as we were passing, I realized that this is probably the school you went to, and I just wanted to wait and see."

"Well I guess you were right. Where's Jack?"

David rolled his eyes. "He's trying to sell some papers to some classmates of yours over there."

"Oh bother", she picked up her skirts and marched over to where Jack was. There wasn't anything wrong with selling papers, but trying to sell them to a bunch of schoolgirls…Jack tended to lay on his charms very thick.

"Jack Kelly!" she called out.

He turned and gave her a sheepish grin. The girls behind him giggled and gave her some very wide-eyed stares.

She grabbed his arm, and hissed in his ear. "Jack, I happen to know a certain Christin that would be very upset if she knew you were selling papers like this."

His grin turned into surprise and confusion "You know her?"

"Yes, I do. I used to work at the factory with her."

"Oh." His face cleared, and then he spotted David standing behind her, trying to keep from laughing. Jack gave him a good glare for witnessing his humiliation, and David tried to straighten his face, but instead finally let loose. That was it for Jack. He turned and stomped away.

"Where are you going?" called David. "I thought you were coming to my house."

"Ill be dere later!" He shouted back. Suddenly his good mood returned, as a thought occurred to him. "I'm going to see Christin at the factory. She won't make fun of me."

David and Erin watched him walk away, then turned and looked at each other.

"You like to read, right?"

David looked at her in confusion, "Umm…yes…"

"I thought so, since you liked school." She smiled at him, "I know of a really great book store…"

"Okay," with a sudden burst of confidence, David took her hand. "Lead on".

"So Les…do you like to read too?" Erin asked as they neared her favorite bookstore, Gingham Brothers.

Les shrugged and swatted at the air with his wooden sword. "Not much, David likes it more than me." He looked up at her eagerly, his face lit with enthusiasm, "But I like pirates! They fight you know, and kill people!" He mimed a vicious pirate, curling his lip and snarling, plunging his sword into an imaginary victim. The victim almost became real when he caught an old lady in her ample stomach.

"Oof!" she exclaimed, reeling back. David managed to catch her in time.

"Sorry madam" he mumbled, blushing, "My kid brother doesn't always…" he clamped his hand over Les' mouth before Les could make the situation worse with his protests.

"Well! I never!" she exclaimed, adjusting her hat over iron-gray hair. She directed her beady gaze down at Les, who quivered at the anger in the glance. Drawing her shawl around her, the old lady huffed.

"Well, sir pirate, I hope you know that all pirates have to respect their mothers and grandmothers no matter how villainous they are."

Les looked up at David and Erin in disappointment, "DO they really? I don't wanna respect anybody!" He looked at Erin apologetically, "Sorry Erin, but I have to be fair."

Erin laughed, "That's quite all right Les." Then she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "But since Pirates are villainous, and lying's a sin, its okay to lie to the lady and tell her you agree now, isn't it?"

Les looked at her in astonishment, than broke into a huge grin. "Say! For a girl, you're not bad!"

David looked at her in bewilderment as Les turned to the lady, "You're quite right madam, and I most humbly 'poligize" he stated magnanimously.

The lady smiled and gave him a candy after ruffling his hair, then turned and left. David immediately glared at Erin suspiciously, "What in the world did you say to Les? I can never get him to do anything I say!"

Erin laughed and grinned down at Les, "Oh, just a little tip, maybe one day I'll tell you, but only if Les wants." When Les shook his head firmly, grinning wickedly up at his brother, Erin shrugged and smiled apologetically at David.

"Sorry, looks like I can't say anything" Erin chuckled and then grabbed Les' hand, pulling him along to the bookstore as David sputtered behind her.

"What? Why can't you tell me? Eriiiiin…that's not fair!" he called as he gave up and ran after her.

Erin smiled, "I know, it wasn't intended to be." Than she pulled him into the shop, putting her other finger over her lips to warn him into silence. He chose to just glare at her instead as she lead him over to her favorite section after showing Les the section with picture books. She spread her arms and smiled, letting him see all the wonderful books sold here. Treasure Island, David Copperfield, Moby Dick, War of the Worlds…

A genuine look of delight came onto his face as he studied the books reverently. He brushed his fingers along their spines, mouthing the titles to himself.

Erin whispered, "I told you that you would like this store" but he was too absorbed to hear her. She smiled and knelt on the floor to pull out David Copperfield, which she had been reading a bit of each time she came. Settling into a chair, she was soon engrossed in one of her favorite novels ever.

It was about six when they headed back towards his house, since David had invited her to dinner. David was carrying a tired and worn-out Les, who had had a very full day.

"David?" she asked, feeling unsure, "I feel like I've met you before…have we met?"

He stared at her hard, "I don't think so…wait….did you got to the Corner street kid's school?"

"I did! Wait a second…" she covered her mouth in surprise, "were you the boy…the one that got in trouble for singing out every word during the spelling bee?" she started laughing.

David blushed and scratched his neck uncomfortably, "Yeah, I was going through a musical stage…" suddenly his face lit up, "And you were the one who always joined in with me!"

She laughed, "Yup, that was me, I couldn't resist a song, no matter how off tune I was"

"You were pretty off tune" he admitted with a grin.

Erin put her hands on her hips, "If you weren't carrying Les I'd swat you with my book" she admonished him.

"No rest for the weary" he groaned, pretending to stagger.

She shook her head, "Oh come one, I could carry Les if I had to, are you that weak?" she teased.

David was properly affronted, "I am not, I was just..." he broke off then looked at her suddenly, "Say…I'm remembering more…you never showed up the next day…I wanted to talk to you, as you seemed pretty nice for a girl…."

"I'd rather not talk about it" she answered stiffly, it was a painful memory, that period of time when she couldn't go to school. Suddenly, she noticed something. In the distance, Erin saw a strange red glow. She felt her body tense with a sudden fear. "David?" she asked, her throat tightening.

"Yes?"

"Doesn't an orange glow usually mean a fire?"

"Yes, why?"

She gasped. "David! It's coming from the Smith factory. Christin works there! And Jack is there too!"

David looked at her, then shifting Les' weight so he could hold him tighter, they began to run.


	7. A Close Call

Disclaimer: I, or we I mean, don't own Newsies. Very unfortunate...

and thanks for the reviews! They're awesome, we love every one.

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It was about 5:00 o'clock when the soft rainfall turned into a pounding thunder storm. A stray lightening bolt had hit the roof, and ignited the upper floors of the factory. Christin was desperately trying to get all the children out before it was to late for them, but it was extremely hard, because all the windows were locked, and there weren't any men on her floor to try to break through them, not that they would really even survive the jump. Luckily, she was closer to the bottom, and there was still hope she might get them all down the stairs alive. As the people started pouring out of the building, Jack was making his way back to newsie square. Jack recognized the burning factory and began looking for Christin. When he realized she wasn't there he began to panic, and decided to go find her in there himself. Christin had gotten the children out but had been hit by a falling timber and was lying unconscious in the stairwell. People tried to stop him from entering the collapsing building, but he ran right past the police.

"GET OFF! Someone is still in there!" Jack yelled to anyone who stood in his way. "There are lots of people in there!" shouted someone farther back in the crowd. Jack ignored them, and tried to get his voice to carry over the thunder of the flames. "Christin, Shades, where are you!" Jack remembered when she had gotten the nickname. It was only a few months earlier when Jack had made Christin blush, turning her cheeks multiple shades of red. The nickname Shades had just stuck, especially since she was often blushing. Jack pushed onward through the burning building, more resolved than ever to find her.

He knew where the stairwell was, and rushed for it, making his way through thick, choking smoke. Pushing through fallen beams and debris, he finally came to where she lay, and bent down beside her.

Christin opened her eyes at the sound of footsteps. She moaned at the pain in her head and saw a fuzzy face in front of her. It almost looked like Jack. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but she just felt even dizzier. Now she could his voice calling to her, but it was muffled, as if someone had stuck cotton in her ears. She had one last, clear glimpse of his face, wreathed in flames, before she fainted again.

Jack picked her up quickly than looked around. There was no way he could go back down the stairwell, as it was blocked with wood and fire. He made his way into the large room where Christin worked and looked around for a way out. He knew the fire escape door was locked because Christin had complained about it several times. He set her down on the floor and peered out the window. There was a small ledge, barely wide enough for a man, running around the building. Well, he thought, better this than death by fire. He went over to the window, whispering to Christin's unconscious form, "Don't worry, Christin, I'll save you".

He broke through the glass and then climbed on the ledge. First he dragged her behind him and then carefully scooted along with her in tow. He could hear screams below, but didn't look down till he came around the corner. The ledge led to the fire escape and he was able to pull her to safety_. I'm just lucky she happens to work in a factory that has one of these_. Then he picked her up and began climbing down the escape.

**  
**

Erin and David searched frantically through the crowds, than Erin saw something. "David!" she grabbed his arm and pointed upward. There was Jack, on a ledge, edging his way around the building, dragging a familiar burden.

"Oh my…"she whispered.

David put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "There's nothing we can do till he gets to the fire escape. Just hold on."

When Jack got down they ran over to him. "Jack? Are you alright! Christin!"

"I'm fine." He looked at Christin. "I'm pretty sure she's just fainted." He smiled at Les then said to David, "Why don't you take Erin back home with you? When Christin wakes up, I'll come and tell you the news."

Erin looked at Jack and then David worriedly as Jack spoke, and then tried to protest, "She's my friend…I really shouldn't…"

"It's okay…she'll be fine. Come on Erin, she'll probably wake up faster with less people around anyway." David took her arm gently, and led her away from the devastating scene, with the fire lighting up Jack and Christin till they were out of sight, and around the corner.

Christin did not wake up until much later, and was surprised to find herself in Jack's arms. Her eyelids opened to reveal dark brown eyes which were, at the moment, very confused. He did not realize that she was awake until her arm moved around him to hug him. She had realized what happened, and was feeling extremely lucky, and grateful.

Christin softly whispered, "Thanks."

Jack exclaimed, "Well, I couldn't lose you in a fire, now could I?" He smiled goofily at this, pleased with his own heroics.

Christin said, "I guess not." She found herself blushing slightly at his romantic rescue.  
Jack was ecstatic, even though he was covered in soot. He kept holding her and hugging her, giving her that really cute and goofy grin. Christin didn't mind, she didn't really know why he wouldn't let her go but Jack wasn't such a bad person to have hugging you. Maybe he felt the same way about her as she did about him. And she knew she wouldn't mind that at all.

The rain started again, but the two didn't notice it at first. They remained in each other's arms while the rain fell onto the cobblestones around them. Finally, they took notice, and they ran to the apartment building to try not to get completely soaked. Sadly, it didn't work, so when they got there, they were drenched all the way through.

Christin said awkwardly, "Well, I guess I should get inside."

Jack asked hesitantly, "Will you come to the square tomorrow?"

Shades smiled and said "Yeah, I suppose so, since we no longer have the usual meeting place at our disposal. Then, remembering how he had been earlier that evening she added shyly, "Bye."

This made Jack snicker a little (as a young man confident in his charms will do), then he answered, "Bye."

Christin went upstairs, and didn't see Jack waiting to make sure she got up safe before he went on to the Jacobs' apartment.


	8. Strike!

Woo! next xhapter...luv'ed y'alls reviews! so...on to the disclaimer...Which I really, really, don't wanna do...Well, I guess I have to...but Ill get it over quick...Wedon'townnewsies. There. We don't own Newsies. Or the songs for that matter, in case that didn't count.

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Racetrack repeatedly flipped a coin in the air, catching it with ease as it came down again and again.

"Can you stop, Race, you're making me dizzy," David complained, watching the ascent and fall of the coin out of boredom.

Race snorted and said, "Well, stop lookin' then." Glancing across the square he spotted something and grinned. He turned to David. "Now me, I'd pick a prettier sight, such as dat dainty ding over dere". He pointed, then the grin on his face turned to confusion. "I could'o swore…" he muttered to himself. He thought he had seen a cute and nimble girl in a pair of raggedy boy's pants picking an old man's pocket, someone that looked very familiar-but she was nowhere to be seen.

David, however, was caught by the sight of someone else. In a spot near Race's mystery girl stood another, a person David recognized. "Erin!" he called, striding across the square. She turned to look at him, her face worried.

"I came here because you guys hadn't yet shown up with the paper. What's wrong?"

David gave her a very frustrated look. "They've gone and raised the prices. Jack wants us to go on strike, but he doesn't really know what he's doing."

She felt slightly confused. "What'd you mean?"

"I mean that Jack didn't go to school long enough to know how to organize and run a strike." He ran his hand through his hair, biting his lip as he tried to figure out why the newsies would want such an incompetent person running their strike, "All he wants to do is punch everybody!" He threw his hands up in the air, as if telling the world that he could just never understand Jack Kelly.

She took his hand sympathetically. "Maybe you should advise him, then. You're his partner, after all. You could make sure he does this right."

"Yeah, I guess." He grinned. "Yeah, you're right. It'd be easier than sitting on the sidelines and watching Jack mess this up".

She grinned at him. "Somehow I didn't think you were the type that would find that easy".

Across the square, Racetrack was peeking around the buildings, looking for that girl, when he bumped into Jack. "Hey Jack..." he trailed off, staring at the brunette girl that was standing next to Jack. He scratched his head, since when did Jack get a goil? Wait, a respectable-looking girl, that is.

Jack blushed, realizing what was confusing Racetrack. He turned towards the little brunette. "Race, I'd like you to meet…", but he was interrupted by a shout and a blur of color. He caught the girl, who had jumped about three feet in the air, and stared at the pipsqueak of a blonde who had just attacked Racetrack.

"Hey, Day, calm it down, goil. You scared da livin' day lights ouda me!"

She laughed triumphantly, waving a familiar newsie hat in the air. "You're a horrible tracker, Race. Ya couldn't find a fat horse in a little stall." He looked like he was going to snap something back then smirked.

"Youse're worse at shufflin' cards than I am at findin' ya," he said slyly, watching her for a reaction. He got one, too. She glowered at him and her nostrils flared.

"Yeah, well," she said imperiously, raising her chin in dramatic mock-superiority. "You're really short." She winked at him and Racetrack immediately broke out into an exasperated grin. It was obviously some kind of joke between the two.

"He's taller than you are," the brunette beside Jack put in. Daydream stared at well-dressed girl with an eyebrow lifted as if to say, "Well look what's here, fancy smancy."

Racetrack saw the look and coughed. "Youse was sayin'..."

"Oh," Jack recovered and began again, "This is…" He threw up his hands as he was interrupted by another loud shriek.

"Daydream!" A bundle of miss-matched clothes and fly-away blonde hair threw itself upon Day. Daydream made a show of choking, then, when the other girl released her with exclamations of apology, she grinned.

"Hey Gimpy! Where did you come from?"

Gimpy laughed, then pointed. "I came with Crutchy! Ever since I quit the liftin' lay I've been workin' for all of human kind." She smiled proudly, "Crutchy told me about the jack-up, and I was so excited! We might accomplish a great shift in the justice of society!"

Racetrack laughed, not believing the company he'd been keeping since he met Day. While Ellen was talking, Erin walked up with David and rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Racetrack glanced over to his right shoulder and started in surprise. Another girl! Were all the girls of New York here? They should have a strike more often!

"Now," Jack began in a rush, hoping he could finish this time. "This is Christin," he pointed to the brunette next to him," and that's Erin with David." He motioned towards Gimpy and Daydream. "I have no idea who these two are."

Before Race could say anything, Daydream drew herself up to her full rather short, but very imposing height. "I, Mister-Offend-Everyone-Today-Rudely, am Daydream, and this," she flung her arm around the former pick-pocket, "is Gimpy but I think she goes by Ellen nowadays."

Ellen glared at Jack, certain that he had been trying to insult her and Daydream.

"Now, Now…" Crutchy began, in an attempt to calm things down. But Ellen, in an uncharacteristic mood of sulkiness, gave him her deader-than-dead death stare. Crutchy shut his mouth quickly.

Just then the tension was interrupted by a cheerful-looking Blink, who came running up to them slightly out of breath.

"What's going on Jack?" he asked. "Why ain't anybody bought their papes?" Ashley, who caught up with them, also looked confused.

"Jack..." she stopped, staring at all the new faces around her. Jack sighed, but didn't have time to make any other introductions.

"Ashley Conlon!" called a pale girl, with brown hair, in a pink dress. She looked extremely happy, her arm wrapped through the arm of another newsie who was wearing a pink undershirt.

Ashley smiled, "Sage! I didn't expect to see you again so soon!"

Erin started, and gave a quick look at the newsie accompanying Sage, someone she knew very well, known around here as Skittery. But now wasn't the time to say anything. Then she sighed, tapping her foot impatiently. It was obvious no one else was going to wrap things up so she stepped forward. "Let me fill you in, Blink and…Ashley. Pulitzer has raised the prices of papers for the newsies. We want to go on strike."

"Who said anything about we…" Jack began, eyeing the girls. Christin dug her elbow into his side.

"Let her talk," she hissed, then she smiled at Emilyanne, the girl in pink, who was looking a bit nervous. The two had met before on clothing business.

But of course Jack didn't listen, and instead, he stepped forward, 'Yeah, we're gonna strike!" Blink and several newsies nearby cheered. The newsies were excited at first but confusion followed.

"Tell us what to do Jack!" shouted one.

Jack turned to David. "Well, you tell us what to do, Davey." David hesitated, here was one last chance to stop Jack from all this craziness…but instead, he took the plunge.

"Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect our rights."

Jack repeated this but in a very embellished way. He climbed onto the statue and threw his fist in the air, shouting more inspirational messages courtesy of David. The boys, in typical boyish fashion, cheered as Jack gave voice to their discontent,

Emilyanne could feel the tide swelling, ready to break. She glanced at the other girls. Some of their faces were lighted with the thought of freedom from the corporate giants. _"Don't they realize that these guys aren't even thinking about girls?"_ she wondered. She forgot about her misgivings as the crowd's voices rose, singing in the harmony of purpose. She could feel her heart beating to the rhythm, and knew that this had to be right, so she joined in.

_And the World will know  
And the Journal too  
Mister Hearst and Pulitzer  
Have we got news for you  
Now the world will hear  
What we got to say  
We been hawkin' headlines  
But we're makin' 'em today  
And our ranks will grow  
_  
They continued to sing for a while, then rushed over to watch Jack climb, to the platform, scrambling up the ladder.

_  
Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won't whip us!  
And the World will know  
And the World will learn  
And the World will wonder how  
We made the tables turn  
And the World will see  
That we had to choose  
That the things we do today  
Will be tomorrow's news _

Jack got to the top and scrawled STRIKE across the chalkboard, obscuring the bad headline, much to the joy of the other newsies.

_And the old will fall  
And the young stand tall  
And the time is now  
And the winds will blow  
And our ranks will grow  
And grow and grow and so  
The World will feel the fire  
And finally know!_

'_Wow,'_ Christin thought as they completed the powerful song. She beamed, proud of Jack and the noble work he was doing. The newsies broke out into cheers and cries of "Strike!" until Jack calmed them down. He turned to David.

"I need some of those…what'dja call 'em?" He flung his hands at David's face as if he could transfer his thoughts to the younger boy.

David sighed, "Ambassadors?

"Yeah!" Jack's face brightened. He turned towards the crowd, purposely ignoring Daydream and Ellen as they danced in circles, still singing parts of the song. "Bumlets, and Specs and Skittery! You take Queens!" he hollered. Skittery nodded, and gently led Sage away from the crowd.

Crutchy volunteered next, "Me and Ellen's got the Bronx."

"Good." Jack nodded in Crutchy's direction. Ellen latched onto Crutchy's arm and started to drag him away. After assigning several other Ambassadors, Jack called out, "Who'll take Brooklyn?" He paused, but there was no answer. "Come on! Spot Conlon's territory."

Ashley tugged on Kid Blink's arm, but he looked at her uneasily. Daydream bit her lip; she had an idea. Her hand shot up. "Me and Race'll go!"

"Wha! Oh no, we wo-" Race started, but was cut off when Daydream slapped her hand over his mouth and gave him a catty look.

"Yes, we will," she announced again, her tone determined.

Ashley gave up on Kid. "Me and Kid too!" she shouted, waving her arm in the air to get Jack's attention.

"Huh? But Ash…" Blink started to whine. Ashley rolled her eyes.

"It's my brother Blink," she said, "It's not like he's gonna hurt us or anything."

"Oh. Right." He rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"Alright," Jack nodded, "Me and David will go wit ya too."

Erin felt a little frustrated that Jack was just ordering people around. She was glad when David spoke up.

"First take your demands to Pulitzer," David said, nodding towards the door. Jack tried to protest but he finally went in, taking Les with him. Erin didn't let him see the smirk playing around her lips. Christin frowned at both David and Erin; she folded her arms and stomped over to talk to Ashley.

Erin, after making sure Jack had gone in, turned around and joined David, who was talking with a well-dressed, kind-looking gentleman.

"…respect our rights," he finished. Then she noticed the notebook. _Ahh, a reporter._ David smiled and introduced her. "Erin, this is Mr. Denton, Mr. Denton, Erin." They shook hands politely.

A few seconds later, Jack was thrown back out the door with a very annoyed Les tumbling after him.

"So's your old lady!" Jack yelled as the door close.

"Yeah!" Les echoed, waving his fist as he tried to stand up, but falling over his shoelaces again. Erin's eyebrows rose, and she went to help Les stand up, she grinned slyly as she heard David say, "Guess you really told him, right Jack?"

Racetrack laughed. "Yeah, told him right out the door!" Jack just muttered something, glaring at David and Racetrack. Christin came over and put her arms around Jack, repeating his glare, then led Jack off to cool down.


	9. Mishaps Galore!

We don't own newsies...bladda blah blah...

-------------------------------------------------------------------

After a short interview with Mr. Denton, the group headed over to Brooklyn. But after a little walk, Jack stopped and calculated just how long it would take to get there. Then, spotting a gypsy cart with a paint horse in front of it, an idea began to form…

"Hey guys," he called. They all came closer, looking at him curiously. He grinned at Daydream, "Hey Day, you're a thief, right ?". She nodded slowly. His grinned widened when he pointed at the cart.

Now Day also broke into a crafty grin. "No need to say anything else, Jack. Just don't make me drive the thing."

She crept over, looking around the side of the cart. No one. She motioned them over, and hustled them into the cart. Just then, a big man with a thick black mustache and red silk pants came out of the shop.

"Hey you! What do you think…"

Not giving him any time to finish, Day recklessly climbed up onto the cart's seat and grabbed the reins. Slapping them up and down, she shouted, "Hai-ya! Go horsey, go! YA!" The horse ran at a gallop, and she turned to wave a fast good-bye to the angry man, "Don't worry!" she called in a shaky voice. "We'll return it," she muttered under her breath, "Someday."

When they were a safe distance away, Daydream yanked back on the reigns. She dropped them and turned around, her face pale. "Um, does anybody know how to drive this thing? 'Cause I don't." Everyone in the back looked at each other.

"I know a little bit about carts," David mumbled, hoping no one would hear him. He was shoved to the front. Daydream picked up the reigns again and handed them to him with a relieved look. Erin made her way up to the front and sat down beside him.

They headed off at a trot and headed on to Brooklyn. In the back, Christin and Ashley were trying on the pretty scarves and headdresses, while the newsies examined the collection of knives.

When they finally stopped near the Brooklyn Bridge, there was an argument going on in the cart.

"Hey, look, a gun!"

"Put that down!"

"Calm down, it's a fake."

BANG! Christin jumped and glared at Jack, caught in the act with the gun in his hands and a guilty look on his face.

"Or maybe not…" he added guiltily. Christin sighed, color flooding back into her face, and slowly lowered her hand from her throat.

"Jack…" she said reproachfully.

"Sorry," he muttered, helping her out of the cart. As she got out, Christin noticed Daydream talking to some newsboy a farther on. He was a tall, lanky boy, with a Spanish look to him. His head was cocked, as if listening to something very important. Christin shrugged, who knew what company Day kept? Once everyone was out, Jack slapped the horse on the butt, and they watched it trot back off in the direction it had come from before they headed onto the Brooklyn Bridge.

Daydream ran right up to the rail of the Brooklyn Bridge, yelling joyfully to see how well her voice echoed. She was dragged away by a worried but amused Racetrack. "Come on, goil, It won't be so fun when you fall ova…"

Sighing, she followed the group, feeling bored after the excitement of the cart ride. When they stopped in a marketplace for Jack to talk to someone, she began to look around. That's when she spied her target. It was a girl with a long, brown braid down her back, carefully examining some apples. Daydream grinned. What an easy target! The girl was wearing an interesting looking bracelet-made out of some sort of black metal. It was big, and dangling off her wrist. Perfect. An original piece and an easy slip.

Whistling, she walked closer, waiting for the perfect moment. Then it came. The girl's hand was loose by her side, the bracelet already almost half-off. With a quick snatch, Daydream snagged it, and sprang back to the group. Haha! Another success. Except…

"Thief!"

Daydream turned around, all innocence. The girl was staring right at her, green eyes burning with fury. Day tapped Race on the shoulder, "Umm…Racetrack?"

Race turned and groaned as he caught sight of the girl. "Not another one, Day." But he didn't have time to finish. The girl gave an almighty leap and, before Daydream could scram, she was pushed down to the ground.

"Oww! Get off!" Her yells were muffled by the girl on top of her. She could hear shouts and Racetrack yelling, "Get off, get off! You'll break her!" Ashley started jumping up and down, shouting at the top of her lungs. She wanted to join the fight, but was afraid of hitting Daydream somewhere in the mess. So she just cheered Day on. "Come on Daydream! Giv' 'er a lefty! No! Your other left! Yes! Come on!"

Daydream fought for her life, shouting, biting, pinching, kicking, using any dirty trick she could think of, but the girl wasn't giving up. Jack tried to pull the girl off, but apparently she wasn't budging. Race was getting frantic. He was about ready to grab a nearby iron pot from a market stall and use it on the girl's head, no matter what he thought about fighting with ladies. Then an idea occurred to Daydream.

"Alright, alright! I'll give it back. Just get off me!" she cried. The girl climbed off slowly, staring at her suspiciously. Day smirked demonically and said, "Didn't your ma ever tell you not to listen to strangers?" She laughed then whammed the girl in the stomach as hard as she could with her foot.

The girl groaned and gave a big "Wuff", almost falling down. She held her stomach, moaning, and gave Daydream the most evil-eye she could manage. Day took that moment to spring up, ready to run, but a hand clamped down on her wrist. She looked up in surprise to meet the fierce gaze of Erin.

'Don't."

"Erin…" Daydream pouted. Great, now the bulls would get her if Erin didn't let go…was this girl a friend or not? Erin frowned.

"You can't steal from others that are a part of our cause." This earned several surprised glances from some of the newsies.

"What?" Daydream was confused, and the other girl looked rather befuddled too. "But she's not…"

Erin cut her off. "She's part of the working class. Are you a newsie? Nope. So there!" She turned to the girl and began to explain about the strike as the newsies looked on in surprise. Daydream grumbled and, after being forced to give the bracelet back by Jack, found solace in Racetrack's comforting arm that wrapped around her shoulder.

"Don't get down, Day." He grinned at her and lowered his voice, "Dey'll be plenty udder chances..." She smiled at him then watched as Erin concluded. They found out that the girl's name was Jewell. "I want to come with you to this Spot's place."

"What?" Even Erin was surprised.

"Well, since these people aren't all newsies, and I see no one representing the blacksmiths..." she paused and jutted her chin out, as if daring them to contradict her.

No one did. Christin shuddered slightly, and resolved to watch herself around this overbearing girl.

'Well then, if that's settled…" She hoisted her basket higher and lifted an eyebrow, waiting. The newsies began to walk again, slightly subdued. Ashley kept darting glances at Jewell, wandering if the girl would make it out of Brooklyn alive, but Blink tapped her arm, signaling that it was time to go, before she could go talk to Jewell.

Daydream pulled away from Race, and went over and hooked her arm through Jewell's free one. She grinned up at the taller girl. "So, now we can be best friends, right?" Jewell just glared as everyone burst into laughter.

When they arrived at Spot's place in Brooklyn, they were met by a bunch of tough-looking newsies but upon seeing Ashley, they grudgingly let the group by. Finally, at the end of the dock, Ashley saw Spot, "Spot! Darling, wonderful brother of mine!" He ignored her, and looked past her to Jack.

"Well, if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick." Then he turned to Daydream, and his eyes glared fire at her. "You. I thought I told you-"

"Heya Spot," she said, cutting him off. She was beginning to feel like she was more trouble to the others then she was worth. "Yeah, sure, you can kill me later but we've got something more important to do than that right now."

Ashley sighed. Why did she always have to make friends with people that Spot seemed to hate? Spot had told her once about some thief that he absolutely couldn't stand, and now she had a feeling about who it was.

Jack frowned. "I see you've moved up in the world, Spot."

The boys did a spit-shake, and Ashley caught Christin and Erin wrinkling their noses in disgust. Spot narrowed his eyes at Jack.

"Yeah. So, Jacky-boy. I've been hearing things from little birds," he said and his eyes slid almost unnoticeably towards Daydream. "Things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They been chirpin' in my ear. Jacky-boy's newsies is playing like they're going on strike."

Jack's hands curled into fists. "Yeah, well, we are."

David frowned and stepped forward. "But we're not playing."

Spot chuckled dryly, than glared at David, "Oh yeah? Yeah?" He turned towards Jack. "What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kind of walking mouth?"

Jack stared right back. "Yeah, a mouth with a brain."

As the tension continued to mount, Ashley edged away towards where the girls were standing. They all looked slightly nervous. "It's okay" she reassured them. It's just a show."

"Easy for you to say," muttered Christin.

Just then David's voice carried over the sound of seagulls and waves. "You gotta join. You just gotta!"

Daydream elbowed Erin, grinning. "Your man there sounds sooo enthusiastic."

Erin replied hotly, "He's not my man!" But she couldn't hide that she was blushing.

Ashley rolled her eyes, "Whatever…"

Then Spot's voice was heard, sinking everyone's heart. "That ain't good enough Jacky-boy. You gotta show me."

Ashley spun around, a shocked look on her face. "Spot!"

He shook his head. "No Ash. I'm serious. I can't commit until I know for sure." Spot walked away farther down the dock.

Dejected, Ashley turned towards the other girls. "He means it," she muttered darkly.

Jewell frowned. "We need to show him we're serious then." She beckoned everyone closer. "I have an idea."

A few moments later, as the rest of the group headed back, Ash and Blink went off in the direction of Queens, and Daydream and Racetrack went running off toward the Bronx.


	10. Queens

Disclaimer: I feel like this has become our mantra...we don't own Newsies, we don't, we don't...though all the Queens characters belong to us; more specifically, to Emilayanne...woot

And the reviews are awesome! It's so great to see people reading this story and hear what they think.

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"Bumlets, and Specs, and Skittery, you take Queens," Jack said, pointing at each boy in turn. Skittery nodded slowly, and nudged Emilyanne, who was taking in the excitement with a large smile. Despite her lack of fondness for crowds, she was very much enjoying the events of the day, though something was weird about the way he kept looking at Erin.

"Look, I had better go with Bumlets and Specs. If you want to stay here, I'll understand," Skittery quickly whispered to Emilyanne. She could tell he wasn't happy with being told what to do. After seeing this, she shook her head firmly.

"I'm going to go wherever you go," She replied, looking into his eyes to make sure that he knew she was serious. She had caught the enthusiasm that had been spreading since the first mention of a strike. She now wanted to do whatever she could to help, especially if it meant getting to be with Skittery.

"Alright, I'll be glad for the company," Skittery said somewhat resolutely, and ushered her towards the sidewalk, away from the large group of people.

Bumlets and Specs, who had been muttering to themselves ahead of the couple, suddenly turned and flanked Skittery and Emilyanne on either side.

"So, Skitts, you never told us you had a girl," Specs said, nudging Skittery's arm and smiling suggestively. Emilyanne blushed furiously, and hugged onto Skittery's arm tighter without saying anything. Bumlets, who was standing beside her, just smiled widely at her, and shook his dark hair out of his face.

"Guys, this is Emilyanne, who also answers to Sage," Skittery said touchily, disappointed that his friends would try to embarrass her. However, he wasn't surprised.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Sage," Specs said, tipping his hat in an imitation of a gentleman. Emilyanne smiled and nodded back genially.

"I'm Bumlets," the dark-haired newsie said and spit into his hand, offering it to her.

Emilyanne looked with repulsion at his dirty hand without moving.

"It's… nice to meet y'all," She said, then continued hesitantly, "I understand Specs' nickname, but Bumlets- that's an interesting epithet. I'm very curious- how did you end up with Bumlets?"

Upon this shock, Bumlets' smile immediately died, and he dropped his outstretched hand. Specs snorted loudly, and elbowed Skittery, who was trying not to laugh. Emilyanne caught onto their humor, and covered her mouth with one hand.

"I'm sorry if I said something offensive, I-," She began. Bumlets cut her off with his free hand, relatively annoyed at having to explain this yet again. He rolled his eyes, and looked down at his walking stick dejectedly.

"When I was young, I had a speech impediment, ok? I used to work in a butcher's shop before I became a newsie when I was 7, and I used to tell stories about my boss and things that had gone on there. Bumlets came from one of those stories. I don't really want to give anymore details than those." Bumlets looked terribly uncomfortable at this and chanced a look at Specs, whose face was red from his attempts to stop his laughter.

Emilyanne looked at the ground, upset with herself for making someone ill at ease. Skittery broke the short silence.

"We're here," He said simply, and motioned across the street to a dingy, grey stone building. It had a small silver plaque on the door reading, "Newsboy Lodging House- Queens."

Emilyanne hesitated at the sight of the run-down building, but Skittery put his arm around her waist, and led her forward. Specs and Bumlets had already headed towards the door.

"It'll be alright, Sage. Just stay by me and everything will be fine," Skittery murmured in her ear once they reached the entrance. Emilyanne had barely registered what he said, when the door was jerked open from the inside and a tall, blond newsie stepped out and shut the door behind him. He gave the small group of Manhattan newsies an evil look with sharp, brown eyes, and then seemed to recognize Specs.

"Specs? Is that you? I thought that you had left after-" The boy didn't get to finish, as Specs had put a hand over the young man's mouth rather forcefully. Emilyanne glanced between the two boys, knowing better than to ask what was going on.

"Yeah, it's me, Brash. We, meaning my friends, Bumlets, Skittery, and his goil, Sage," Specs pointed to each in turn and then went on, "We have some business with Falcon. Do you mind?"

The boy named Brash considered the four, and then shrugged. His eyes strayed onto Sage's tidy appearance.

"I don't see why you can't go in. I just hope your goil here doesn't mind seeing some alcohol," Brash said, shaking his head as he laughed silently. Emilyanne looked somewhat concerned after this announcement, so as they entered the building Skittery whispered in her ear.

"It's fine. The leader of the Queens newsies is well-known for being a drunk. She's not violent, though, so don't worry."

Emilyanne's eyes widened considerably. She? Before Sage could ponder why a girl was a drunkard, she met the famed leader of the Queens newsies face-to-face.

A petite girl stood in front of Emilyanne, her long, red locks spilling over her shoulders and reaching almost to the small of her back. The girl wore cut off brown pants and a loose white blouse, with scruffy brown boots on her feet. The girl looked to be about seventeen, but Sage could tell by her demeanor that she commanded to attention of the room. The young woman had a hand perched on her hip, and an eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

"So, what have we got here? A few Manhattan newsies, huh? What d'ya want?" Falcon slurred, her body slowly rocked to and fro as she spoke. She suddenly started scratching herself in a most inappropriate spot, and Emilyanne immediately looked away in embarrassment for the teen.

Specs was the only one that seemed unfazed by this girl's lewdness. Bumlets and Skittery were both trying their best not to laugh at Emilyanne's horrified face.

"Look, Pulitzer has jacked up the price of the papers. 60 cents a hundred," Specs paused here for effect. Falcon immediately started making protesting sounds, if rather slowly. Specs kept going when he knew he had her attention again.

"We're going on strike against the World and any other papers that decide to go with Pulitzer. I think that it'd be good if you joined wit' us. What d'ya say?"

Falcon seemed to consider, each motion very exaggerated.

"I think that that's a good idea. We'll strike!" She yelled out, and punched an arm into the air, and then lost her balance and toppled over. Bumlets caught her right before she hit the floor.

"Oopsie!" She said, and then gazed into Bumlet's eyes, suddenly enamored. "You're so handsome. Do ya wanna stay here with me tonight?"

Bumlets stood her up quickly, and backed away, shaking his head vigorously. Skittery and Specs looked on in amusement, while Sage seemed to still be appalled.

"Uhh, no. I think that I'll be heading back to Manhattan now," Bumlets nodded, as if reaffirming his decision.

"Aww, come on. We were just about to start the real party!" Falcon said coquettishly, flipping her long hair out of her face and batting her eyelashes. When she didn't receive a response right away, she grabbed Bumlets' hat and held it away from him. He immediately lunged for it, muttering some choice curses, but the petite girl was fast and quickly skipped out of his grasp and down the corridor.

"Come and get it!" She cried, and Bumlets reluctantly pursued her down the hallway.

Specs immediately burst into laughter, followed closely by Skittery.

"Well, it seems that we may be here for a while. Would you guys care for something to drink?" Specs said as he headed towards what seemed to be a common room. "There's always plenty to drink here."

Emilyanne about gagged. The smell of alcohol was very strong, and she knew that her clothes would smell horribly whenever she returned home. The very thought of drinking any of the amber liquid being passed around by the Queens newsies sickened her. Skittery caught on to this fairly swiftly. He denied the offer, even though he would normally partake in the party.

"Nah, Specs. We'll just hang around in the parlor where it's a little less…," Skittery searched for the right word, "Lively."

Emilyanne smiled happily. She knew that he would drink if she wasn't there and appreciated him thinking of her.

They moved into another room in the back, where the furniture seemed not to have been touched in years. It was unusually fancy for such a ramshackle lodging house, but Emilyanne decided not to question. It didn't smell as repulsive as the rest of the house. She sat down gratefully on a burgundy velvet loveseat, and Skittery joined her.

"Thank you. I've seen enough drinking to know the effects," Sage bowed her head in thought. "My father was an alcoholic."

"I guess that's something we have in common," He replied rather spitefully. He quickly changed the subject, still trying to get his mind off of liquor. "So, do you waltz?"

He held out his hand to Emilyanne, who looked warily at him.

"I haven't danced in years. We used to have these grand soirees at our home, with beautiful gowns and pearls…," She seemed caught up for a moment, and then went on, shrugging as if his offer was absurd. "And, besides, there isn't any music."

"We'll make our own," Skittery said simply, his hand still outstretched. He smiled encouragingly at her, and she finally placed her hand in his.

He drew her to her feet and immediately spun her around. He drew her closer to him, while she continued to look around nervously. She laid her other hand on his shoulder, and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Suddenly, she heard him humming a soft tune. She recognized it immediately and began humming along with him in a soft voice. It was her favorite waltz. The "Emperor's Waltz," by Johann Strauss jr., was the name of the tune.

As they continued to dance, so close that they were almost embracing, Emilyanne closed her eyes. She had gotten back into the rhythm of waltzing. She remembered well the cool summer nights back in Georgia, where she was always the center of attention, the best dancer, and the most sumptuously dressed. Despite their lack of funds, her parents always managed to make themselves look good to society. That was the one thing that always seemed to be top priority in their minds.

No matter what happened in their bank account or at home, they appeared to be wealthy at all times. This put great stress on her father, who drank heavily to relieve his worry. Emilyanne shuddered at the memories of those nights, which became more and more frequent. Her father would scream and curse, throw lamps and her mother's china, often coming close to injuring anyone who dared to come near him.

She opened her eyes abruptly, and realized that they had stopped dancing. Skittery said nothing as Sage leaned her head against his shoulder; he just put his arms around her. He understood her pain. Losing your family wasn't a simple thing to recover from.

Emilyanne couldn't hold back her tears any longer, and choked out a sob. Skittery led her over to the couch, where she fell gladly into the soft fabric. She covered her face with her hands, ashamed that she had allowed herself to ruin a perfectly fine evening. She felt as though she had to explain.

"I'm so sorry. I… my parents…," She attempted to say, her voice cracking noticeably before she lost her internal struggle for control, and started to weep into her hands. She barely noticed Skittery hugging her again, humming another tune. He was humming a tune that she wouldn't have remembered anyway, an old church hymn. They remained locked in an embrace for what seemed like a long time before Skittery noted that Emilyanne had stopped crying, and had fallen asleep in his arms. He gently laid her down on the couch, making sure that she didn't look too uncomfortable. Skittery then went over to the loveseat across the room, and looked out of the grimy window to see that the sun was already setting.

Several hours later, Skittery was awoken by Bumlets, who unceremoniously shoved him off of the couch.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Skittery yelled, enraged. He rubbed the back of his neck, which was sore from sleeping on the short loveseat. Bumlets clamped a hand over the other boy's mouth with a look that clearly communicated that Skittery needed to be quiet.

"What, do you want to wake up Sage or something?" Bumlets said, slowly removing his hand. Skittery could smell some liquor on Bumlets' hand. Skittery wasn't sure whether the smell was from Falcon or from Bumlets having some beer.

"What time is it?" Skittery said groggily, wishing that he could just go back to sleep. Bumlets laughed widely, and Skittery could tell that the odor of alcohol wasn't from Falcon. Skittery sighed. It was always hard to tell if Bumlets was drunk or not. He held his alcohol very well, which Skittery supposed was a trait from his Spanish ancestors.

"It's almost two in the morning. I really think that you should see what is going on in the other room," Bumlets said, a mischievous smile playing across his face. Skittery looked worriedly over at Sage, who was still asleep on the couch. Bumlets saw this.

"She'll be fine. If you haven't noticed, nobody ever comes in here anyway," Bumlets pointed out.

"Fine. But I'll only be in there for a moment," Skittery said, and ran a hand though his hair in an effort to further wake up.

When Skittery reached the front room, a very peculiar sight lay before him. About fifteen newsboys in their teens were scattered around the room, each one sleeping soundly. Most of them were sprawled across the floor or chairs and were snoring softly. The only movement in the room came from the other end of the room where Specs and Falcon were on the couch, kissing passionately.

Skittery's eyes widened, and he looked at Bumlets, who snorted.

"It's been like this since Specs slipped something into most of the boys' bottles. I was smart enough to keep mine away from him. He's had a thing for Falcon for a while, and I knew he would try something as soon as Jack told us to come here. It's a good thing sage was here, or else you'd probably be passed out with the rest of 'em," Bumlets said wisely. Skittery rubbed his temples, and moved over to where Specs and Falcon were getting busy. He grabbed a beer bottle from a table as he walked, and once he reached the pair, he dumped it on them.

"What the hell?" Specs said angrily, looking at Skittery with utter contempt. Falcon mirrored his look, but once she saw that Skittery was a male, she started giving him puppy dog eyes. Skittery rolled his eyes at her.

"Look, I'm headed back to Manhattan. I completely lost track of time, and I know that Sage will want to get back. Do what you like, but Bumlets and I are leaving," Skittery explained, making sure that Specs knew that he wasn't joking.

"Speak for yourself, Skittery. I think I may crash here tonight," Bumlets said wearily.

"I knew you'd come around," Falcon said, and blew Bumlets a kiss. Specs didn't even notice this, through the fog of alcohol that he was currently engulfed in.

Without saying another word, Skittery left the room, and headed to the parlor. Emilyanne was rubbing her eyes, apparently trying to wake up.

"What time is it, Skitts?" She said blearily, clearly having just woken up.

"Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep," Skittery said tenderly, sitting down on the couch beside her. She immediately fell back into a peaceful slumber when her head fell back upon the pillow.

Once he was sure that she was sleeping heavily, Skittery gently took her into his arms, and headed for the door to the lodging house. He had no sooner gone two blocks, than a fire engine siren blared on the next street over.

Sage began to stir restlessly, and opened her eyes. When she saw Skittery, she smiled, finally remembering the events of the past evening.

"Hello," She said softly. "You can put me down. I'll be fine walking back."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," She answered, and he set her feet on the ground. Almost straight away, she fell onto her knees.

"Perhaps some assistance would be an advantage," Emilyanne reasoned, and didn't protest when Skittery placed an arm around her waist.

"Thank you," She said, wrapping her own arm around him. "Thank you for everything."

"I don't really know what you're talking about," Skittery said.

"You were there to comfort me and protect me from the intoxicated people at the Queens lodging house. In my opinion, that is a very chivalrous act," She smiled up at him, and quickly gave him a kiss on the forehead. "And I thank you."

"Come on, let's get you home," Skittery whispered, and hugged her closer.


	11. Let's get Going

Thanks so much to the reviewer that pointed out that we had put up a chapter twice- their was a glich in my computer, and I was so tired I didn't even realize it. But here's the new chapter!

and by the way, we don't own Newsies.

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Ashley was cornered by Erin right after Jewell told them her plan.

"Girls' meeting seven o' clock in the morning, at Tibby's; can you be there?" she asked hurriedly.

"Uh, erm, yeah sure," Ashley answered, somewhat caught off guard by the other girl's sudden appearance. "What 'bout Emilyanne?"

"She's in Queens. Could you go tell her? Please?" Erin responded, flashing her puppy dog eyes.

"Um... sure, lemme go get Blink then."

"Yeah, whatever," Erin said, rolling her eyes.

Ten minutes later Blink and Ashley were walking to Queens at something a bit beyond a leisurely pace. It was starting to get dark, and everyone knew it wasn't safe to be out at night.

"So what 'xactly happened ta our date tonight?" he asked, a bit put out.

"We gotta go get Emilyanne from Queens," she answered, linking arms with him, "Ah, cheer up Blink, we still get ta spend time together! It's fo da good of da strike, anyways."

"Yeah," he mumbled, still not entirely pleased. They walked down the street hand in hand in a comfortable silence. Ashley was about to say something when a male voice sounded behind them.

"Well, well, well, wadda we have heah?" It was the Delancey brothers, "Some o' da strikers I see." He turned to his oafish brother. "Wadda ya say we teach them da lesson wes taught deir cripple friend yestahday?" he continued, his sneer showing yellowing teeth.

"I shoulda known," Blink muttered angrily, "Think we can take 'em on?"

"Don't see why not," Ashley answered, "It's two ta two."

"But..." he interjected, looking somewhat embarrassed, "You sure ya can, ya know..."

Ashley flashed him a somewhat sick-looking grin, "D'ya honestly think I coulda grown up wit Spot and not know how ta fight?" They turned around fully just in time to see the Delanceys lunging at them.

Oscar grabbed Ashley by the collar and slammed her against a brick wall, aiming a fist at her face. She ducked out of the way just in time to receive only a glancing blow to her cheekbone. Quickly getting to a crouch, she lunged forward, throwing her shoulder into his gut and knocking him to the ground. Immediately, she straddled his chest, pinning his arms to his side and aiming blows at his face. Unfortunately, Oscar worked one of his arms free and sent her sprawling back with a hard punch at her left eye. Scrambling to her feet, Ashley looked over at Blink; he seemed to be holding off his opponent pretty well. He'd obviously received and landed some blows himself. Looking down, she saw a fist-sized cobble stone at her feet. She grimaced; it would be a dirty way to end the fight. But if this scrap lasted any longer, someone was going to get hurt even more. Turning around, Ashley saw Oscar coming at her. Hefting the stone in her right hand, she lobbed it at him and scored. He fell to the ground, out cold. Ten feet away, Kid Blink was resorting to similar means to end his battle, in his case with a piece of firewood lying nearby. Breathing heavily, she turned to look at him and grinned weakly.

"Ya okay, Blink?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Blink answered, wiping some blood from a cut on his forehead out of his eye. Ashley felt her own face, assessing the damage. She had a black eye where Oscar had punched her and a small nick on her eyebrow, but nothing too serious.

"Come on, let's go get Emilyanne." she said tiredly, "We should get back b'fore dark." Blink shrugged and they continued their walk down the steadily darkening street. Stopping under a nearby gas lamp, the pair faced each other.

"Ya know," he said, staring into her eyes and smiling slightly, "I'm kinda enjoyin' bein' yo babysitter." He leaned in and gently kissed her, running his hands through her hair, which had come untied in the fight. They moved slowly apart and once again continued walking down the streets of Queens, Ashley's head resting on Blink's shoulder. Turning the corner, they encountered Emilyanne and Skittery.

"Hey Sage!" Ashley called, waving a free hand.

As soon as Ashley and Blink had gotten close enough to the other pair, Ashley saw Emilyanne rushing at her.

"Are you two all right? What happened?" Emilyanne said, concern filling her voice. Emilyanne tried to get a closer look at the growing bruise on Spazz's cheek.

"We're fine," Ashley said, shrugging. Emilyanne didn't look too sure, but stepped back to be beside Skittery. Ashley continued, "Erin sent us ta get yous; there's a girls' meeting at Tibby's at seven in the morning."

Emilyanne groaned, "I'm not going to get any sleep tonight if we are going to make it there." She layed her head on Skittery's shoulder, and he put a comforting arm around her, grinning slightly, "If you want, I'll carry you."

Emilyanne smiled up at him, "That's a very gentlemanly offer, but I think I can make it on my own two feet, I wouldn't want to wear my defender out". Skittery and Emilyanne grinned at each other, than he put his arm around her waist and they got ready to go.

As Ashley and Kid Blink stepped closer, Sage's eyes widened in curiosity. "So what exactly happened to you two?"

"We'll tell ya on da way back," Ashley answered, sharing a glance with Blink, "Let's get going."


	12. MixedUp Logic

We do not own Newsies, have never owned them...perhaps...one day...no, not likely. But oh well.

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"Aw, great!" Daydream whined, practically kicking her way down the street like a kid having a tantrum. Racetrack was walking next to her, amused by her juvenile anger. They had been 'ordered' by Erin and Jewell to go find Ellen and Crutchy in the Bronx and that hadn't been in Daydream's plan. She growled irritably to herself.

"Does she even know how long it takes to get to the Bronx from here?" She did not wait for Racetrack to answer before she carried on with her rant. "Erin didn't even listen to me when I told her that they don't really like me over there! And how are we supposed to find those two? They could've left the Bronx and be long gone by now!" She stuffed her hands into her pockets and glared down at the cobblestone.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Racetrack said, grinning at her, "They won't get very far no ways."

"You sound sure of that," she muttered, her eyes sliding towards him. He assumed an all-knowing look.

"Yeah, well, think 'bout it, Day," Racetrack started philosophically, "Deir nicknames are 'Crutchy' and 'Gimpy'. How fast can dey possibly go with names like dat?" Daydream looked at him blankly for a second before breaking out into giggles. Racetrack knocked his fist into her shoulder. "Dat's betta. I like it when youse're smilin'."

"You do?" Daydream said, raising her eyebrows. "What about when I frown?" She pulled the corners of her mouth down dramatically. "Or pout?" Her lower lip jutted out and her hazel eyes grew to enormous proportions. Racetrack rolled his eyes at her theatrical show.

"Ham it up a little, why don't ya?" he told her. He smirked at her fake-hurt and automatically huffy air. "I think," he continued, "I like any face you make 'cept that one where ya look all angry. I don't like dat one."

"Oh, you mean this one." A vicious scowl narrowed Daydream's eyes into slits and her mouth into a straight line. Racetrack nodded.

"Yeah, dat's the one." He frowned and tousled her hair so it fell over her face. "Stop doing it before yer face gets stuck like dat."

Daydream let the angry expression fall and resumed her normal jubilant attitude. "Better?"

"Loads," replied Racetrack. He spotted the Brooklyn Bridge up ahead and turned to her with a half-smile on his face. "Hey, Day?"

"What?"

"Wanna race?" he challenged, his eyebrows lifted in encouragement. Daydream looked momentarily appalled.

"No, I don't want you!" she said then grinned at Racetrack's exasperated look. "Yeah, sure, since beating you is my specialty."

"Oh, is dat what you think?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. She nodded then lifted her chin in the air defiantly. He let a disarming smile slide onto his face. "Since we're both so sure of winnin', how about we bet on it?"

"How much?" she replied cautiously. She knew all about Racetrack's obsession with gambling, in fact, thanks to him, she was beginning to know everything about gambling itself. Poker, dice, betting, Race was teaching her all of it, especially stuff about horseracing. That was his favorite subject and he could trail on and on about it tirelessly. He shrugged.

"I ain't got no money right now."

"You ain't got a job now, either," she quipped then her smile slipped a little. "Come to think of it," she mused into the air, "neither do I." Racetrack frowned.

"What'd'ya mean?" he demanded. "I t'ought you had a job at dat vaudeville in Midtown."

"'Had' is the important word in that sentence," Daydream said but her playfulness was gone. She looked at the ground, across the street, anywhere not to meet his gaze. "I sorta lost it when I came in late that day I met you." Racetrack was about to say something but she held up a hand. "But hey, I'm fine. I get to spend time helpin' out with the strike." She gave a tiny, ironic smirk. "And I got my ways of makin' money."

"Daydream…" Racetrack started, his eyes narrowed. She winked at him and bent forward.

"On your mark."

"What kind of ways?" he asked.

"Get set." She put her finger tips on the ground and set a determined look on her face.

"Are youse ignoring me!" he exclaimed, waving his hand in front of her face.

"GO!" She shot off towards the bridge, her laughter trailing behind her like a kite's tail. Racetrack sighed then took off after her, working double-time to catch up with the quick thief.

They crossed the bridge at a slow lope and then stole a ride on the back of cart that was headed towards the Bronx . Daydream tried to make herself look as inconspicuous as possible. She yanked her hair out of its ponytail and brushed it into her face, hiding her features as much as possible with the tangled mess. She also stuffed her newsie cap into her bag. Racetrack did not really see the point in her trying to disguise herself; one look at the satchel and anyone would know it was Daydream. He remembered Spot's none too happy reaction to her at the docks.

"Hey, Day?" he asked. She lazily looked up from watching the people go by.

"Hmm?"

"How do youse know Spot?" She bit the side of her lip and chuckled.

"I knew you were gonna ask that. I just didn't know when." She kicked her feet back and forth over the side of the cart. "Actually, it wasn't all that exciting. I just, ya know, picked his pocket and then-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Racetrack interrupted. "You picked Spot Conlon's pocket? _The _Spot Conlon?"

"Yep," she said, obviously proud of her accomplishment. "But he caught me half-way down the street." She shook her head at the memory. "Nearly bashed my brains in with that stupid cane of his. He's never had much love for me since then."

"Wait," he said, looking at her strangely, "why'd youse wanna go to Brooklyn, den, if Spot hates ya?"

"Well," she said quickly, "I just thought that if I were there it'd get his attention straight off." She smiled and patted the wooden bottom of the cart. "And it did, didn't it?"

Racetrack stared at her for a moment as she went back to people-watching. That logic sounded off to him but he did not want to press to matter. Daydream would just avoid the subject, skipping around it but never touching the meat of it.

Halfway to the Bronx, Racetrack spotted a pair of familiar looking people making their way through the crowds.

"Crutchy!" he yelled, jumping off the back of the cart and waving his arms to get their attention. The cart's driver turned around in time to see Daydream hop off to follow Racetrack. Any anger he had dissipated when the girl curtsied politely to him.

"Thanks a lot!" she exclaimed. He nodded back at her and tipped his bowler cap before driving off. Daydream chalked him up as one of the nicer inhabitants of New York.

"Heya, Race, heya, Day!" Crutchy said enthusiastically as the two of them came closer. They moved out of the stream of pedestrian traffic into a vacant side alley. Daydream relayed the news of the meeting to Ellen who scowled.

"That Spot sounds like a real-" she forced a smile instead of a curse. "Jerk of an idiot." Racetrack laughed.

"Don't let him hear ya say that, Gimp."

"I can say whatever I like to whomever I like, thank you, Mr. Higgins," Ellen stated with an spike of annoyance. Racetrack shrugged and made a motion to Daydream that suggested Ellen was insane. Daydream bit her lip, trying not to snicker while Ellen glared at Race. Crutchy draped an arm across Ellen's shoulders.

"Well, let's go on back, Gimpy," he said. She nodded then turned to the other two.

"Do you want to walk with us?" Racetrack and Daydream shared a quick glance before shaking their heads.

"No, I think we'll just let you two lovebirds alone," Daydream said with a playful look. Crutchy beamed while Ellen looked a little horrified. Then the blonde flung an arm about Crutchy's waist and nodded defiantly.

"Then let us be off, my love!" she said, flinging her wild hair back behind her shoulders. They walked away, Crutchy skipping a little on his good leg.

"Dey're a couple of honeymooners, now ain't dey?" Race said sarcastically. Day tilted her head to the side and watched them disappear into the crowds.

"Yep," she said, "they're about as in love as you can get."

They smirked at one another then started off towards Midtown. Daydream led the way since they were headed to her lodging house. She sighed when the building came into sight.

"They hate me," she exclaimed rather abruptly, interrupting Racetrack's explanation of why Mariner's Promise was going to the race the next day. For a moment, he was uncertain of what she was talking about.

"Who hates ya?" he asked, thinking that would be a safe question.

"The girls that live in my house," she replied in a melancholy. "I don't do all those girly things that they do so they don't like me." She smiled a bit. "It doesn't help that they don't know what I do for a living."

"Why don't ya tell 'em?" Racetrack asked. Daydream stared at him and laughed.

"Yeah, Race, I'll just go up to my hoity-toity neighbors and tell 'em, 'Hi, I know you don't like me, but guess what I do for money? Yeah, I'm a pickpocket, how about that?'" She shook her head with a sardonic snort. "They'd be, what's the word, scandalized," she gasped as an example of their reactions, "if they knew. Not to mention I'd be out of the house and in the Refuge before I could say 'But only for kicks!'" She sighed. "I probably need to be getting a new place, anyways. Somewhere cheaper, at the least."

They were at the doorstep. Racetrack looked at her and grinned nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his head.

"So, you'll be at the Square tamarra?" She nodded.

"Right after the girls' meeting at Tibby's, yeah." They stood there for a moment with their hands in their pockets, looking pretty much everywhere but each other.

"Well, I'll see ya," Racetrack said and started to leave. He suddenly felt a something soft and moist brush his cheek. He turned back around but Daydream was already halfway up the stoop.

"Thanks for walking me home, Race," she said in a coquettish tone, a smile tugging a corner of her mouth up.

"Anything for youse, doll!" he exclaimed excitedly and walked off with a bounce in his step and a grin on his face. What a funny girl he had snagged!


	13. Report to Spot

The bad thing about long stories is how many times you have to break your heart by saying that you don't own Newsies. So- we don't own Newsies. There, our hearts break again.

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Daydream waited until she was sure Racetrack was gone from sight before trudging back down the stoop. She sent a long, regretful look after the Italian newsie before striking off east at a quick trot. After dashing to the end of the street, she stealthily snuck onto the last trolley headed her way. Sitting on the edge and trying not to be seen by the driver, the little pickpocket swung her legs back and forth. The trolley bumped along the cobblestone streets, jostling Daydream without mercy. An hour later, the street lamps were being lighted and she was standing on the Brooklyn Bridge for the third time that day. She looked out across the Hudson River , her eyes lingering where the moonlight streaked the water in a reflection of the star lit sky. This was one of her favorite spots in the city, right here, hanging half-way off the bridge with only the railing stopping her from plummeting to her death. She loved the adventurous thrill that made her tremble when she stood there.

Suddenly a quick shove from behind threw her even farther over the railing. Daydream screamed in terror but the two hands that had pushed her gripped her waist firmly and tugged backwards. Regaining her balance, she spun around to defend herself but he easily caught her clenched fists. Daydream sighed in relief when she recognized the familiar tenor laughter.

"Jackal, you idiot!" she yelled and slapped the tall, pirate-looking boy in the shoulder. "You could've killed me!"

"At least ya'd die quick, right?" he teased, ruffling her thick hair. Daydream growled and shoved his ink-stained hand away.

"No," she snapped testily, "I'd have at least a minute to think about how nasty it's gonna be before I hit the water." He laughed and waggled a finger at her.

"You see, my dear bonnie, that is where you are incorrect," he explained, switching from his regular thick New York accent to a lilting English one. "You would have only about half of a minute to ponder this catastrophic event." He straightened up and peered around as if he had lost something. "Say, you haven't see any tea around, have you? I do love my tea." He puffed out his chest with dignity. "My dear, tea is the most wonderful invention ever." Jackal's face contorted in a mask of pseudo rage. "Anyone who doesn't enjoy tea should be set before a firing squad and promptly shot! Or thrown over the side of a bridge."

Daydream did her best to suppress a smile but Jackal saw her lips trembling with the effort. "Ah-ha!" he cried, pointing wildly towards her face. "I made ya laugh!" Before she could argue with him that this was incorrect, he had turned to a surly, drunken man passing by. "I made 'er laugh!" Jackal declared cheerfully and motioned to Daydream. She decided this was a good opportunity to confuse an innocent bystander and began to sob violently. The man, who was too drunk to do anything else, grunted and walked a little faster, saying something under his breath about what was the world coming to. The pair laughed, Jackal's boisterous guffaw blending with Daydream's cheerful giggle.

"Why are you here, anyways?" Daydream asked when the final chuckle faded away. She leaned back against the railing and regarded him with a narrowed gaze. "Does Spotty think that I can't make it to his place on my own anymore or," she paused then continued with more bite, "is he scared I won't show up at all?" Jackal shrugged uncomfortably.

"He just wanted to make sure you got to the docks alright, Day."

"Ain't he sweet," she said in a sappy voice, glaring at the ground. Jackal smirked.

"No," he commented drolly, "he's a squat little toad an' you know it." She grinned up at him and pushed off of the railing.

"Well, let's not keep the toad waiting, then," she sighed. Jackal offered her his arm but she walked past him, ignoring his attempts to be a gentleman. He shook his head wryly and followed her, swaggering down the sidewalk. He started telling some rowdy story that seemed to take all his attention, but the occasional flicker of his eyes towards an alleyway opening or a dark corner was a testimony to his caution. Daydream was actually glad that Spot had sent the Spanish newsie; Brooklyn wasn't exactly the most welcoming of places this late at night and Jackal was a good friend. He had immediately agreed to run the strike message to Spot earlier that morning after she had met him on the bridge. Jackal had the uncanny luck of being in the right place at the right time all the time. Daydream had been relying on that well-known fact when she volunteered to go to Brooklyn . She was feeling guilty about sending him with the message, though, and she didn't know why. She began to chew thoughtfully on her bottom lip, subconsciously tuning Jackal and his story out.

It had been a pretty lie she had spun for Racetrack earlier that day. She had actually been one of Spot's "Birds" for a long time now, not that many people knew that little factoid; the identities of the spies were well-kept secrets. It had been an unhappy coincidence when she met Spot Conlon. She had been sent down to the docks by one of her many employers to pick up a package when she had been confronted by a gang for stepping into their territory. The price for trespassing had been something she hadn't been willing to give up. Spot had shown up at the last moment with just enough time to stop them. She still couldn't understand why he had done it; Spot usually wasn't one for heroics. After figuring out that Daydream got around the city more than most people, he had asked her to become one of his many "Birds". She, feeling obligated, had accepted. Now, years later, she was constantly sending him bits of important information and also seemingly useless gossip. It had been her responsibility to get the strike news to Spot; it was her job. So why did she feel like she betrayed Racetrack and the others by giving Spot an advantage?

Daydream looked around in surprise when Jackal stopped in front of a dockside warehouse. She had been so caught up in self-doubt that the walk didn't seem to take that long. The stench of rotting wood mixed with fresh sea breeze to create the distinct smell of the Brooklyn docks. Dark waves crashed against the docks' support beams, beating out a rhythm of in, out, in, out, the ocean's eerie lullaby. Daydream shivered as the breeze snagged its invisible fingers in her hair, whipping it around in front of her eyes. She tucked it back behind her ear quickly and stared off in the direction the wind had come from.

"Daydream," Jackal exclaimed suddenly from the doorway, jolting her out of her reverie, "let's go inside. Ya know, where it's not so wet?" Daydream nodded slowly and walked back over to him. He held the door open as she went in.

"Thanks," she said, giving him an appreciative smile before turning to look around the room. The warehouse was relatively clean and orderly, a fact that never ceased to surprise her. The Brooklyn boys who were scattered around the big room raised their heads when she walked in and, impulsively, she moved closer to Jackal.

"Hey, goilly," one of them sneered. He was sitting at a table with three other boys. One of his hands was limply holding playing cards while the other held a smoldering cigar. Daydream imagined she could smell the alcohol on his breath even as far away as she was. "How about you drop that beanpole and come sit with a real man?" He slapped the empty seat beside him. "I'm gonna win this game so I'll pay you good, better than that yob anyway." His poker buddies threw in some arguments as he crowed to himself. Daydream felt like indulging her pride and lashing out at him but Jackal stepped in front of her before she could do anything.

"She ain't for sell, Wedge," he said, the cheerfulness gone from his voice. "She ain't one of those." If there was one thing that Jackal couldn't stand it was a man disrespecting a woman, which was another thing Daydream liked about him. Wedge edged his chair back from the table and stood up. He pointed a finger at Jackal.

"You move," he snarled and jabbed the finger into the Spanish newsie's chest, "I want 'er, I get 'er." Jackal scowled then grabbed Wedge's arm, yanking it backwards until it was mere inches from snapping. The boy howled in pain and his poker buddies jumped up, their chairs falling backwards with a clatter. Daydream leapt up beside Jackal, her fists clenched and raised for a fight. A sudden cold chuckle stopped the combatants before they could even start the fray. Spot Conlon was standing on the stairway, both hands resting on the gold tip of his cane. His ice blue eyes narrowly inspected the group below as he tutted softly, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth in disapproval.

"Wedge, you know betta dan to insult me guests," he said. Wedge stared wide-eyed at Spot from where Jackal had him in an arm-lock. At a nod from Spot, he was released, yelping at the pain in his arm. His eyes shot bullets at Jackal and Daydream as he stumbled away from them.

"You follow me," declared Spot to Daydream. He turned and went back up the stairs. Jackal motioned for Daydream to take the lead, which she did, going up the steps with one last glare at Wedge before she reached the top. She looked back to make sure Jackal was behind her before walking the rest of the way to Spot's 'office'. Spot was leaning against the doorway, waiting for her. She shook her head and tchtched when she saw him.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to stand in doorways?" she asked as she brushed past him, her nose raised snootily in the air. He raised an eyebrow.

"Did your madda eva tell youse that if ya stuck your nose up higha, ya'd be drownin'?" He closed the door before Jackal could get into the room.

"Not even a 'thank you', Spotty?" he yelled through the wood. Spot did not grace the door with a look. As she perched herself on the edge on Spot's bed, Daydream could hear the Spanish newsie stomping back down the stairs.

"So, Day, what's the news?" Spot asked as he turned to her.

"I dunno, Spot," she said, picking at his blanket, "you're the newsie." She looked up at him with a sigh when he did not acknowledge the joke. "What do you wanna know?"

"Whose idea was dis, for starts," he said as he sat down in a chair. He leaned it back and propped his feet up on the bed for balance. His eyes never left her. Over the years Daydream had noticed that he always tried to stare down whoever he was talking to. It was his way to appear superior and imposing to the other person. She often annoyed him by staring right back and making faces but tonight she didn't. She was too tired.

"That David kid," Daydream answered drolly. She pulled at a corner of the blanket and started tugging at a loose string. "I think he meant it as a joke but Jack just took it and ran." She smirked at him. "Jack's that kind of guy, isn't he? Headstrong, pretty thick?" Spot chuckled dryly.

"That's Jackie-boy, alright." He narrowed his eyes. "But he ain't as dumb as he acts."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"What about my sista?" he suddenly demanded. "What's she been doin' ova dere?" He looked so serious that an idea popped into Daydream's head; she struggled to keep a grin off her face.

"She's been doing the usual, you know." She put on a bored air as she continued. "Eating face with that Kid Blink fella and all and sleeping around with the rest of the 'Hattan newsies. They brag about her all the time."

"WHAT!" Spot roared, losing his composure. He also lost his balance and the chair he was sitting in toppled over backwards. The chair whammed into the floor, depositing the 'King' of Brooklyn on the floor in a most unattractive heap. Daydream burst out into laughter then tried to smother it with her hands. Spot might just kill her if he saw her laughing at him.

"I was just joking, Spot," she managed to splutter. "Spazz is being a good girl, just like you want her to be."

He jumped up and put a finger in her face. "Daydream, I swear if you eva tell anyone about dis, youse won't make it outta Brooklyn."

"I won't, Spot," she said then bit her lips in an effort not to grin.

"And if youse eva joke wit' me again…" He righted his chair and sat back down. This time, though, he kept his feet on the ground. There was a quiet moment while Spot tried to regain his imposing façade that had been shattered and Daydream snickered into her hands. "So," Spot said, "she's alright? She's doing good?"

"Oh, yeah," Daydream said, nodding, "She's great. All of the Manhattaners treat her like their own little sister." _Except Blink…_ she thought but she would not say anything about that to Spot. She liked Spazz and did not want the other girl mad at her. "I was actually surprised she didn't notice me."

"She's usually not around when youse come by."

"Not to mention I don't usually come by," she said with a quirky smile. When she was relaying messages and such to Spot, they often met at random places around the city, usually somewhere between Brooklyn and wherever Daydream was currently living. It was rare that she ever showed up at the lodging house, but when she did, she came through the back door. This was the first time she had made the mistake of coming through the front door. Hopefully, it would be the last.

They talked about the strike and who was involved and what might happen until Daydream was losing track of where the conversation was going. She had scooted back on Spot's bed until her back was against the wall. Her eyelids felt like they were going to snap shut any moment. A soft knock on the door brought her head up again. She looked wide-eyed at Spot. Who would be at the door at this time of night? There was another knock, this time more insistent.

"Stay here," he ordered. She nodded and watched as he got up and walked over to the door. He opened it enough to see who was there then let the person in. It was a boy and girl, both looking tired and irritated as they came into the room.

"Heya, Vale, Ave," Daydream mumbled sleepily. The girl, Avenue, attempted to smile at her but Vale scowled.

"What're you doin' heah, Daydream?" he snapped. "You ain't in on da newsies."

"She is now," Spot said icily. He leaned against the wall as the other two Birds found seats. Avenue plopped down beside Daydream on the bed. Vale stalked over and claimed Spot's recently vacated chair. He crossed his arms across his chest and glowered at everyone.

"Who's she wit'?" Vale asked, jerking his head towards Daydream. She found the energy to glare at him. Even if he was exhausted, he could at least address her directly.

"Manhattan," she answered for Spot. "I've got friends there, which is more than I can say for you." Vale's scowl increased, making deep frown lines in his face. It was true, Vale did not have many friends outside of his own borough of Queens and the few friends he had there were shady. Having a large pool of friends and acquaintances was something Daydream enjoyed almost exclusively out of the Birds. Of course, that also meant she had accumulated a few enemies over the years, but she tried not to think of them too much. Paranoia was not her trade. Avenue flipped a lock of springy red hair over her shoulder and tried to ease the tension.

"So I suppose ye know all about the strike, right, Daydream?" she asked, her tone beautifully lilted with her Irish accent. The younger girl nodded.

"Yeah, I was there when they decided to do it."

"What's Jack think he's doin'?" demanded Vale. "He sent a group of his boys ova to our lodging house to fill us in about da strike. When I left, Specs, da dirty traitor," he caught himself before he spat on Spot's floor, "had drugged the rest of our newsies and was gettin' da full complaments of Falcon." Daydream wrinkled her nose while Avenue rolled her eyes. She knew about Falcon and her disgusting habits.

"Was dere a girl dere? Wit' one of da Mahattaners?" she asked.

"I t'ink, maybe? Dere was a goil asleep on da couch when I left. Brown-'aired, pretty…" He shrugged. "Looked like upper class material." Daydream made a face. She should have warned Sage about Queens. Maybe the boys prepared her a little before they went in. _Doubt it._ Spot switched the subject.

"What about the Bronx, Ave?"

"Same thin', just about," she replied, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "Except there was this loud, outspoken little thing that came with Crutchy." She shook her head. "Talked like there was no tomorra, that one did." She suddenly grinned. "I'd think we'd be the best o' friends."

"Nope, no," Daydream said, lifting her head from where she had been resting it on her knees. "Trust me on dis, ya both have too many opinions. Ya'd tear each otha ta shreds." Daydream shook her head slowly. She must be really tired if her accent was coming out as much as it was. The others talk became a dull rumble in her ears as she slumped against the wall, dead tired. _It really had been a long day,_ she thought as her eyes closed.

"Daydream, get up!" A pillow hit her in the head and she instantly sat up. The room was dim with pre-dawn light. Someone very tall and very dark and very much Jackal was standing over the bed. _Oh, Gawd, I fell asleep in Spot's room! _She looked up at Jackal bleary-eyed.

"Where's Spot?" She rolled out of the bed. She took a survey and was pleased to find herself completely dressed. Not even a button was undone. Spot was immediately bumped up on her list of not-so-perverted people. Now he was only in the bottom five instead of the bottom two.

"He left already and made me in charge of getting' youse out of the heah befoah the rest of the house wakes up," Jackal said. "So hurry up, lady bum!" She suddenly remembered the meeting. It would be a miracle if she got there on time!

"See ya soon, Jackal!" she exclaimed and gave the newsie a quick, thankful kiss on the cheek before jetting down the stairs.


	14. We Strike Again

So, after a nice long summer...we are back to disclaim Newsies once again. Torture of tortures. But...we don't own Newsies.Sadness.

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The next morning they met at a favorite cafe, a small, fairly cheap place named Tibby's. All the girls were there, but none of the guys. Christin and Emilyanne were still grumbling about this part of "the plan".

Jewell cleared her throat, "As most of you'll know by now, Spot has denied our request for support temporarily. But," the others looked hopeful, "he said he would join if we showed how dedicated we are. So, we need to decide what to do, and help the newsies do it."

Spazz popped up from her bench enthusiastically, "Let's soak 'em! Soak the scabs!"

Erin sighed exasperatedly. "You can't solve everything that way." She looked at Jewell, "Believe it or not." Jewell glared at this veiled insult, than turned to the rest of the group.

"Any other suggestions?"

Ellen called out, "Whatever we do, I will be there!"

"Thank you, Ellen, for stating the obvious," Jewell said impatiently. Ellen grinned.

"You're welcome."

Sage spoke up hesitantly, "I think we should confront the World employees. I mean, the scabs, or whatever they're called. "

Christin nodded, "But we need to talk to Jack first. He is the leader."

Daydream and Ashley groaned, but Jewell was all for it. "Okay, let's go find them," she paused, "where do you think they'll be?"

All the girls chimed in at once. "Newsies Square!" They laughed, linked arms, and went out into the bright sunshine.

They arrived to an utter chaos of song. Newsies were everywhere, singing and dancing. It wasn't exactly the reaction to Jack's news that they expected to see.

_Neighbor to neighbor_  
_Father to son_  
_One for all and all for one! _  
_Open the gates and seize the day_  
_Don't be afraid and don't delay_  
_Nothing can break us_  
_No one can make us_  
_Give our rights away _  
_Neighbor to neighbor_  
_Father to son!_  
_One for all and all for one!_

David took Erin and began dancing with her, jumping all over the place in his excitement and singing loudly. Erin could only laugh as she watched Skittery claim Emilyanne, the pair twirling around the square like they were practiced ballroom dancers. Skittery dipped Emilyanne then spun her around quickly. Her pink skirt flashed around her like petals on a flower. Nearby, Daydream clapped along with Racetrack's harmonica playing and tried to keep up with his fancy, tap-dancing footwork. As Erin turned around again, she spotted Jack grabbing Christin around the waist and throwing her into the air. The brunette let out a small scream and was thoroughly relieved when Jack, Dutchy, and Specs caught her together in their web-work of arms. Kid Blink and Ashley had linked arms and were dancing around in a hoe-down fashion. Every so often, Mush would steal Ashley away and leave Blink to dance around in circles by himself. But what was really funny was seeing Ellen and Crutchy making up some interesting dance moves involving his crutch. Suddenly, a bell was heard ringing. There was a pause, as the fact that it was the circulation bell ringing registered in their mind. Jack spoke a few words that Erin couldn't understand than all of the sudden everyone was rushing towards the building. David and Erin looked at each other, than Erin shrugged, "Oh well," she pulled him towards the building. They got there just in time to see Jack give a huge punch to a scab, then hop up next to the window, to tease Weasel, still trapped inside.

Christin started laughing, relieved that Jack had survived the fight with the scabs. Now he was making faces at Weasel and the Delancey brothers. She saw Ellen and Crutchy sitting on a pile of boards, madly tearing up papers and laughing. Ellen, spotting a group of newsies run by pretending to be Indians, got up and joined them. Christin's laughter was broken off by Jack, who had out his arm around her waist and was leading her towards the gates.

"What…?" she began.

"Everyone out! The bulls are here!" he hollered, waving his arms in the air like a warning beacon. Christin needed no further encouragement. Picking up her skirts she began to run with Jack, passing Ellen and Emilyanne on their way out. Ellen was trying to stop, calling, "Crutchy!", but the crowd pushed her forward.

As they reached the safety of nearby buildings, Christin turned and saw Crutchy being dragged away by the Delancey brothers. She turned at the sound of sobs, and saw Daydream comforting Ellen. Ellen looked up with tears in her eyes and whispered, "Crutchy…"


	15. Secrets

Yay! An awesomely large chapter...but we can't even claim half the chracters as our own. Sadness, not owning Newsies.

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Splash! The rock hit the surface of the pond and sunk below. Daydream watched with concern as Racetrack bent down and snatched up another stone. He glared at it before hurling it at the water. He had been like this ever since Crutchy had been picked up by the Delancys earlier that day. Daydream had tried to console Ellen after it had happened but the girl had shrugged her away and ran off down the street. Day was worried that Ellen would get herself in some kind of trouble but she didn't have time to go after her friend. Racetrack had grabbed her arm and pulled her away. He didn't say a single word during the whole walk to Central Park but Daydream could almost feel the anger radiating off him. He had dragged her into the center of the park, next to one of the ponds, and then started heaving rocks at the water. Once and a while, Racetrack would curse but he usually just glowered at the water and the stones in his hands. Sometimes the rock he threw would skip but mostly they just sunk, lost forever in the muck of the pond bottom.

Daydream leaned back against a tree and ran her bare toes across the ground. She had slipped out of her shoes earlier, enjoying the feeling of the dirt and grass on her skin. Racetrack flung another rock across the pond, this time skipping it. It bounced four times before diving under the water. Daydream thought that maybe he had cooled down enough for civil conversation.

"Racetrack?" she called tentatively. He didn't turn around. "Race, c'mon, Jack said he'll get Crutchy back and, from what I can tell, Jack usually keeps his word." Racetrack paused; his arm, which had been pulled back for another throw, dropped to his side. She got up and went over to him, her skirt wrapping around her legs as she walked.

"What're you so mad about?" asked Daydream carefully when she had reached his side. She tried to catch his gaze but he was doing a good job of ignoring her. Finally, he glanced at her and she saw the repressed fury in his eyes.

"Dey love to pick on helpless people, y'know?" Racetrack glared back out at the pond. "Crutchy couldn't do a damn thing to stop 'em and dey still soaked 'im! Yeah, sure, maybe he could've got a coupl'a good whacks in wit' dat crutch a' his, but he's Crutchy!" He gave a short, sardonic laugh. "Crutchy wouldn't hurt a bee even afta it stung him on the ass." Daydream frowned uneasily.

"This ain't really about Crutchy, is it, Race?" she said softly. Racetrack's eyes stayed trained on the water. He took a slow, deep breath and began to talk.

"I had a lil' brudda once. Short, scrawny lil' brudda who followed me aroun' all the time like he was some kinda puppy." Racetrack smiled a little. "He'd follow me everywhere; to the market, to the Battery , even right heah to dis park. Hell, dat kid wouldn't neva leave me alone." The smile left Race's face and his tone changed from nostalgic to melancholy. "But he was weak, one of t'ose real sickly types dat always have somethin' wrong wit' 'em. But he didn't care; he was just happy to be alive. Always smilin', always tryin' to make ya feel betta."

"Sorta like Crutchy?" Daydream cut in. Racetrack nodded.

"Yeah, sorta like Crutchy, but he won't no brownnoser." Racetrack took in another deep breath. "I tried to look out for 'im, y'know, but I couldn't watch 'im all the time. I really tried." He looked so depressed that Daydream felt like hugging him, telling him it was alright even before he finished. She restrained herself, knowing he needed to get this out. A dark, chilled feeling was creeping up her spine and she knew that she wasn't going to like the end of this story.

"I left 'im here," Racetrack motioned to the area around them, "while I went to sell my papes one day. I was only about eleven and I had just started bein' a newsie. I wanted to look good roun' my new friends and I couldn't do that with 'im dere." Racetrack laughed cynically again. "I didn't know then dat crips sold all the papes. I was a real stupid kid." A mix of anguish and self-loathing settled into his features. "I guess while I was gone, a couple'a thugs came up and thought he would be easy, just another crippled sap to get money off of." Racetrack clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles shone white through his olive skin. "Dey beat 'im bad, so bad dat he died, bloody an' scared an' hoit. He was just too weak to take all dat pain, or at least dat's what the doc said." His face contorted into a miserable grimace. "I should've been dere to stop 'em. I was supposed to protect 'im and I practically killed 'im!" He yanked back his arm and heaved the stone at the pond. It hit the water and Racetrack sat down on the bank, his face shoved into his arms.

Daydream blinked the tears from her eyes as she sat down next to him. She took her ever-present denim bag off her and searched through it, finally coming up with a blue and white handkerchief. She handed it to him wordlessly. He mumbled his thanks and just sat there, holding it. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them for a while. Racetrack suddenly smirked the tiniest bit down at the handkerchief.

"Hey, Day?" he said slowly, turning it over in his hands.

"What?" she replied haltingly. She was still trying to get over the story he had just told her. He dangled the handkerchief in front of her face.

"This is mine."

"Wha-oh, yeah." She smiled sheepishly and rubbed at her teary eyes. "It was hanging out of your back pocket and it looked like it was gonna fall out…well, I was going to give it back." Racetrack snickered, this time without any vestiges of sarcasm.

"Day, goil, sometimes I don't know what to think about youse," he said, climbing to his feet.

"Hopefully something good," she replied. He held out a hand to help her up and she accepted it, her own smile blossoming slowly across her face.

After the bag was retrieved and Daydream had put her shoes back on, they started walking out of the park.

"I'm sorry about your brother, Race," Daydream said in an uncharacteristically subdued voice. She tucked her hand into his and squeezed it reassuringly. "But you couldn't have known that anything was gonna happen to him that day." She pinned him down with her eyes. "You can't blame yourself forever." Racetrack grinned back sadly.

"Wanna bet?"

"Race!" Daydream whined. "I'm being serious for once."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered. He cocked his head at her. "Y'know, I've only told maybe two people about dat." Daydream glanced away.

"I could understand why," she mumbled. They started walking again, the conversation turning to the less serious subject of gambling. They were almost to the square when a boy grabbed Daydream's arm, halting the pair of them on the sidewalk. She stared up at him for a moment before recognizing his face. Beside her, Racetrack was scrutinizing the boy, wondering if things got rough what would be the best way to take him down. The Italian stuffed his hands in his pockets and glared menacingly up at the tall kid.

"Daydream," the boy growled in the most Neanderthal way. "You stole Knocker's money and he wants it back." Daydream straightened her shoulders.

"What do ya mean, stole it? I didn't steal anything from him." She glanced at Racetrack and smirked. "I won it fair." The boy leered at her, arms crossed over his chest.

"You just betta be on watch, Daydream, or you're gonna get it." He thrust a finger into her face and she leaned back, startled. "You think you own this town but you don't. You're gonna get it, goil. Knocker's gonna get you. You betta stay out of Saw territory, if ya wanna live to see your next birthday." He glared menacingly one more time for effect then stormed down the street. Racetrack raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question.

"That was Nosebleed," Daydream told him with a hint of amusement in her voice. "He's from the Two-man Saw Gang; they all have the stupidest nicknames." She counted off some examples on her fingers. "Nosebleed, Pin Cushion, Fence, Hinge; their leader's name is Doorknocker but everyone just calls him Knocker." She grinned. "You know, I think that Mush was a part of that gang before he was a newsie."

Racetrack nodded thoughtfully. "Dat makes sense. None of us eva knew where he got dat name, anyways." He looked sideways at the girl beside him. "Day, how 'xactly do youse know dat gang?" She shrugged.

"I used to live down near the Battery a couple years back and they were always hanging around," she replied and started walking again. "They used to be the Killer Marbles before they switched their name to the Two-Man Saw Gang. Not that anybody cares."

It was dusk and Newsies Square was teeming with newsies, as it usually was during the strike, but now anger replaced the enthusiasm and energy that defined the group. Jack and David were kneeling by the Horace Greenely statue, probably discussing some kind of plan to get Crutchy out of the Refuge. Christin was perched on the statue in between Horace's feet, her boots dangling above Jack's head. She smiled and waved when she saw Daydream and Racetrack. Daydream grinned and went over to her.

"Where'd ya go?" Jack asked as Race came closer.

"No where, Cowboy," Racetrack replied. Jack's face warped into an expression of confusion then he shrugged. Wherever Race had been, it wasn't his business. So instead of pressing the issue, he invited the shorter newsie to join the conversation. Meanwhile, Daydream, who had hopped up beside Christin, was being filled in about what was going on. No one knew exactly where Ellen had gone but it was the best guess that she had followed Crutchy to the Refuge. Their conversation was interrupted when Jack abruptly stood up, exclaiming "So, it's a plan then!" Unfortunately, the top of his head slammed into Christin's boots, making her legs fly up. The top of his body became entangled in her skirts. Christin started screaming and slapping at his head.

"Get out! Get out of there, you, you, you, bumblehead!"

"I'm trying, I'M TRYING!" came Jack's muffled reply. Everyone could see his failing attempts to escape the imprisoning yards of cloth. David stared at the scene, trying to contain his laughter.

"Things not goin' fast enough for ya, Jack?" asked Racetrack, giving Daydream a hand off the statue as she tried to get away from Christin's attack. Erin rushed over and helped Jack extricate himself from Christin's skirts.

"Look, you two, calm down," she scolded, trying to shove Jack's head down. "Panicking never solved anything." Finally free, Jack backed away, still swatting at the air. All of the newsies were laughing and Christin was thoroughly embarrassed. She covered her cheeks and rushed away, situating her violated skirts at the same time. After getting his wits about him, Jack followed her, yelling for her to slow down. Daydream shook her head. What an odd bit of humor in a dreary day. But back to her reality. She was about to ask David about the rescue plan when an arm reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her down from the statue. She half fell onto to someone who clasped her in a huge bear hug.

"Daydream!" a voice exuded somewhere over her head. It was quite the opposite of the earlier event. She was spun around then caught again. Someone was babbling a mile a minute but she too dizzy to focus on any one person. "I can't believe it's you! I mean, I t'ought it was you, but I didn't really know, but whaddaya know, it really is you!" Whoever it was grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. A smile burst onto her face as she recognized an old friend.

"SNITCH!" she squealed and launched herself at the boy. She squeezed him then pulled away to see yet another very familiar person. "ITEY!" She threw herself on the quiet Italian who embraced her tightly before letting go. They all grinned stupidly at each other before letting out a rapid volley of questions.

"What're ya doin' heah!"

"Where were ya!"

"How are you?"

"What've you been doin'!"

"Why didn't you guys tell me you were newsies!"

Racetrack, who had been watching the exchange with growing annoyance, butted in.

"She's wit' me." Both Snitch and Itey turned to look at the shorter boy then looked back at Daydream.

"You're wit' Race? Dat's a laugh," Snitch said, throwing an arm around her shoulders. He grinned down at her and ruffled her hair. "You ain't ever wit' anyone!" Daydream's cheeks turned bright red and she gave Race an apologetic look.

"Oh, hush," she scolded, thumping Snitch in the arm. "You haven't answered any of my questions yet!"

"I saw you yesterday morning," Itey said, "but I didn't have enough time to talk to you. And I didn't really know if it was you or not." He gave a lop-sided smile and fiddled with his suspender straps. Daydream tried not to roll her eyes. _After all these years, he still plays with his suspenders!_

"But then I saw ya right now and grabbed ya and well, youse know the rest," Snitch said, grinning. "So what've you been doin', Day? Haven't seen ya in foreva!"

"Oh, I've been at this and that," she answered vaguely. "Pocket-diving, when I get too bored." She winked at the smirks that suddenly appeared on their faces.

"Just couldn't stop, could you?" Itey asked, shaking his head in amusement. Daydream grinned.

"Not even if I wanted to," she replied. Racetrack stepped closer to the little group, staring directly at Daydream. She felt small under that gaze.

"How do youse know each otha?" he asked, ripping his gaze from her to look at the other newsies. Snitch shrugged while Itey digressed into nervously chewing on his suspenders.

"We knew each other when we were little," Daydream supplied. Racetrack glared, obviously unsatisfied, then stalked off. She looked back at Snitch and Itey. "Um, I think I need to go." She hugged them both again before following Race.

"Racetrack, wait up!" she called, catching up to him and grabbing his shoulder. "What's wrong?" He whirled around and wrenched away from her. She jumped back, startled by his sudden anger.

"Why are youse so secretive?" he demanded. "Why don't you eva give me a straight answer?"

"I-I um," she mumbled, biting her lip anxiously. He flung an arm back at the square.

"And how come you knows so many people? Who are you?" His brown eyes bore into her, making her cringe.

"I-," she said softly, looking at him pleadingly. "Race, please…"

"Everyone else seems to know ya," he snapped scathingly, "how come I don't?"

"It's not like that!" she shot back. "You just don't get it!" They glared at each other for a while.

"I'se gotta go," Racetrack said and walked away.

Daydream watched him go and murmured under her breath, "Don't hate me." Furious with him and herself, she stomped off down the street. She saw Erin and David walking past, having a conversation but she did not stop to talk to them. She did not want her bad mood rubbing off on innocent bystanders. Instead, she swerved off that street and headed down another one. She had no idea where she was going but it did not matter. She just wanted to blow off some steam anyway. After a few hours of walking, she ended up in a vacated back alley. Exhausted from the day before, the fight, and the walk, she hid herself behind a couple of crates and put her head to her knees.

Why did he want to know? Why did he care? Daydream leaned back and thunked her head against the wall. Why did people always want to get involved, anyway? They were safer not knowing. Daydream sighed and let her head rest on her shoulder. Maybe she would understand better after a cat nap…


	16. Big Brother

Saying this is like having to eat spinach...or calamari...ugh. We don't own Newsies. What a distasteful thought.

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"We're going to get him out of the refuge tonight."

Erin stopped and stared at David, then continued walking, "That's good. Who all is coming?"

"Just me and Jack."

"Oh." She glanced at him, then added casually, "Not Skitts?"

"No, why?"

She paused, and brushed her hand across the cool brick building they were standing next to, then shrugged, "You know he was basically the leader of the newsies till Jack came?"

He frowned in puzzlement, "No…actually, I didn't know that." He gave her a curious look.

Erin sighed, and folding her skirt neatly under her, sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, and then patted the place next to her.

"You remember that question you asked a while back, about why I never came back to school?"

David thought for a moment, than nodded.

"You better sit down. It's a long story."

David sat, draping his arms over his knees, and looked at her, waiting for her to begin.

She frowned, and stared into the air, as if gathering her thoughts. She tugged on a piece of lose hair, then finally turned and faced David.

"I suppose for it to make any sense I would have to start at the very beginning. With his parents. They were…bad." She sighed, "Very bad. Especially for a young boy. They were both alcoholics, and when they were drunk they weren't very nice people. While his father would physically abuse him, his mother would torment his mind with poisonous and vile words, abuse of the worst kind, coming from someone that should have loved and protected him."

David blanched, shocked that such a horrible family could exist. He had been raised to think of the word family as a good thing. Not in this case.

Erin frowned, eyes shadowed with dark thoughts and memories, "His father died when he was eight, and his little sister, six. His older brother became his guardian, and he took after his parents." She looked at David quickly, "I mean the brother, not Skitts."

David nodded, waiting for her to go on.

"He wasn't so much an alcoholic, as abusive when things didn't go his way. And Skitts was a non-conformist. Skitts went to a local public school on his brother's insistence, though he hated it. And his little baby sister wanted to go very badly, yet their brother wouldn't let her, because he insisted that schooling wouldn't do a girl any good." David put a comforting arm around her, as her forehead wrinkled in anger at the thought that a girl would be denied schooling for such stupid reasons.

"One day it all came to a head. Skitts got into a big fight with his brother about it, and left the house to become a newsie." At David's shocked look she smiled and shook her head, "Oh no. He didn't abandon his sister. He checked up on her whenever he could, but had to do so secretly because his brother had disowned him and hated him. And without two children to care for, and an advanced position where he worked, he was able to send the girl to school. It all worked out pretty well, for a while."

"What happened?' David looked at her curiously.

"The brother came home early one day, and found Skitts talking to the sister. He flew into a rage, and beat him close to death. Only the sister's intervention kept him from it. Luckily, the brother had to leave again on business, and so the sister got some of Skitt's friends, Bumlets and Blink, to come and carry him back to the lodging house. After that, it was never the same. The girl was taken out of school for a few years, till when she turned fourteen, and her bother and she reached a compromise. The brother forbade her to visit or talk with Skitts if she wanted her schooling paid for. He even posted people to watch her."

David gave her an incredulous look.

"Yes. You even know some of them. The Delancey brothers. That strange war veteran who stands around Newsie Square in the morning, because he knows she's going to go by there."

Her voice suddenly picked up strength, "But from then on, she hated her brother fiercely. She vowed that as soon as she was done school, to get a job, and never see or talk to him again."

David was mystified, "How do you know all this?"

Erin drew her shawl around her a bit tighter, "Because I'm his sister."

David looked at her, mouth hanging open, temporarily stunned. Then they heard a shout from across the square. "Hey, Davey! We gotta go!" They turned to see Jack, with his cowboy hat on, and a rope slung over his shoulder, waving his arms like crazy across the square.

They both laughed, and then David helped her to her feet, looking at her regretfully, "Sorry...I wish I could walk you home..."

"Don't worry." She interrupted him. She smiled and squeezed his hand, "I can take care of myself just fine."

"If you insist..." he gave her a doubtful look, then she just laughed and gave him a light push. David grinned and walked over to Jack, waving good-bye as he went.

Erin turned and looked around the square, drawing her shawl closer in preparation for returning home, as it was getting late. Dusk was beginning to creep in, its dark claws closing around everything, transforming buildings from their formerly friendly appearance to the ghostly specters of night. She liked to call this the nothing-time, and it was the time of day that frightened her most. For everything was suspended between two times, almost as if between two worlds. Everything was the same washed-out color, and it was a time when it seemed like anything could happen.

Then she spotted someone. Her eyes widened as he came into view, walking around the corner of a building. He stopped and stared, a smile lighting his face. Then they both looked around, several times, to make sure no one was watching. David and Jack had already left while she had been standing there, thinking. Then with a suddenness that made her laugh, Skitts was springing across the square, and then throwing his arms around her, "Heya, sis."

She grinned and responded gaily, "Heya, Skitts. Long time since we got a chance to talk."

"Definitely." He pushed his hat back and grinned lazily at her, completely comfortable with his sister. Draping his arm around her he asked, "So how is it at home?"

"The usual" she responded in disgust. Then she looked at him slyly, "You and that Sage girl seem to be getting along rather well."

His smile broadened, and his eyes grew dreamy, "Yep. I'd have to say I'd agree with that."

"Fine." She laughed and pushed him. "Don't tell me."

He was about to push back when he remembered something. "Shit, I've got to go! I told Emilyanne I'd pick her up from the dress shop and walk her home." He gave her a guilty smile, and told her about how he had been picking Sage up for several nights now. Erin smiled inside. Skittery could say what he wanted, but something told her that for him, this girl was serious. She should know, after all, he was her brother.

Neither of them noticed the two people standing in the shadows. One was the slight shape of a girl, the other a hardened figure of a man. The man left, but the girl stayed on, watching them.

"Okay," Erin gave him a warm hug. "See you later, Skitts."


	17. Betrayal

I say this with a deep, profound sadness appropriate to this chapter. We do not own Newsies...

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"Ok, see you later, Skitts," Erin said, giving Skittery a massive hug, which he gladly reciprocated, a smile spreading across his haggard face.

Tears began to blossom in the eyes of a girl standing around the corner, who was soaking this conversation up as if it was water-a very bitter water that left a pungent taste of salt in her mouth.

Sage peeked around the corner of the brick building, confirming her worst suspicions about the boy and girl in Newsies Square. After seeing the glances that the two had shared a few days ago, she wondered if something was going on, but she had pressed it into the back of her mind, wishing it not to be true.

Skittery was in the embrace of another girl- a girl that she knew and had put her trust in. Erin had stabbed her in the back just to get at Skittery. Even though it was very obvious to the world that Skittery was already involved in a relationship. Emilyanne couldn't comprehend why this girl would want to hurt her. She hadn't done anything to her, this she knew for a fact. Unless this was all Skittery's idea. He had obviously seen Erin before, and judging by size of the hug, they shared a deep connection. The tears continued to come, unbidden, as Emilyanne searched her mind for an explanation that would acquit Skittery of any guilt, while her anger built. When none was forthcoming, she decided to do the one thing that she hated most in the world- she decided to step out of the shadows and confront them.

"Skittery, I… thought that we-," Sage's voice cracked as she rounded the corner. She had forgotten that she was crying. But she continued on, ignoring the tears falling down her face. "I thought that we, what I mean is- I didn't know about her. Why didn't you tell me?"

Skittery and Erin stood there, staring at Emilyanne is disbelief. They had been so very careful to not let anyone see them together, and Sage had found them somehow. Skittery tried to explain, knowing exactly how the situation looked.

"Sage- Emilyanne, I know that this… well, this looks bad, but it really isn't," Skittery stammered, trying his best to make her listen. His stuttering just made it sound worse than it actually was.

Emilyanne's tears had suddenly dried, leaving only incredulity and fury in their place. The anger continued to grow as her mind refused to see reason.

"No. I was completely candid with you, something I rarely do. I told you everything about me, and this is how you repay me. By lying to me and never truly loving me at all. I knew from the moment I met you that I should have never trusted you. I should have never trusted a street rat," Emilyanne spat furiously, her anger finally boiling over, an event that very seldom happened to her. As she said these words, she knew that she would later regret them, but they had already been released.

Skittery and Erin stood in utter shock as Emilyanne whirled around and stormed off. After she rounded the corner, the two were able to move again.

"I didn't know that she could be like that," Skittery whispered softly, still looking in the direction that she had left in.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Erin smacking his arm.

"You didn't tell her about you?" She said dubiously, wondering where her brother's sense had suddenly flitted off to.

Skittery shrugged noncommittally, and turned his gaze away. "I told her I was abandoned at my aunt's house in New Jersey."

"So, you didn't mention me at all? Sometimes I wonder about your common sense," Erin rolled her eyes and then looked at her brother expectantly. He just stared back, a clearly confused look.

"You need to go after her," Erin said firmly, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Skittery hesitated, still visibly stunned by Emilyanne's outburst earlier.

"If you don't go now, she'll be even angrier later," Erin stated.

Skittery didn't say anything, but ran around the corner after Sage.

Sage continued to walk back to her apartment, he hands clenched by her sides. People stepped out of her way in passing after seeing the look that was displayed on her face. For once she was glad to have left the dress shop early. She had had the opportunity to see what Michael had been doing in his time away from her. He had been with other women.

So he hadn't meant any of what he had said for the past days. She thought back to each moment they had spent together, trying to imagine anything that he could have said to indicate that he was lying. The only moment she remembered was in the park, the day that they had first kissed. He had mentioned something about fitting in with Jack and the Newsies. But that had nothing to do with other girls. This train of thought made Emilyanne angrier and more stressed than she already was, leaving her with a huge headache.

Just when she thought that the day couldn't get any worse, she felt a hand grab her shoulder and spin her around. She stared into the face of Skittery.

"What is wrong with you? First of all, I didn't know that you had the ability to get angry, and second, this is a huge misunderstanding," Skittery said sincerely, taking great care not to stutter this time. Emilyanne met his apologetic gaze with an irritated one of her own.

"I don't what you're talking about, Michael. I am perfectly able to get angry, just like the rest of the human race. I just don't choose to show it as often," Emilyanne said, her voice like daggers. Skittery didn't really know what to say, so he allowed her to continue with her ranting.

"I know that you have been seeing other girls besides me. I don't know how I could have been so stupid as to not have seen it before. I saw the looks that you gave Erin when the strike was first announced. I heard everything that you said to her today. Why would you tell her about me, when I didn't know about her? I thought that we could trust each other. I rarely tell anyone about my past, and now I wasted that precious information on you. Why am I even bothering to talk to you any more? I am obviously wasting my time on a selfish, immature, and heartless person."

At this, Emilyanne spun on her heel, and tried her best to leave before she said anything else that was too damaging. When she lost her temper, it tended to be a bad thing for anyone involved.

Unfortunately, she was stopped yet again by a hand on her arm.

"I am sorry that you have gotten that idea, but I promise you that what you just saw was a direct result of me not being brave enough to explain to you everything about me," Skittery's face was a mixture of anger and guilt, and it was obvious that he was trying to keep exactly what he thought inside. Emilyanne was intrigued by this new information that Skittery had revealed, so she gave him a look that clearly told him to continue.

"I don't want to explain here," Skittery said nervously, gazing around at the dimly lit street. "Let's go to your apartment, where it's a little more private."

"Alright," Emilyanne nodded slowly, her anger diminishing with each deep breath she took. She failed to notice the lewd stares of the people on the street who had been hearing their conversation.

Sage walked several steps in front of Skittery until they reached her apartment. The aftershock of her words was beginning to sink in. She immediately felt like apologizing, but swallowed the impulse, and just made sure that he couldn't see her ashamed face.

She unlocked the door to her small apartment as quickly as she could, and began to busy herself in her small kitchen, leaving Skittery to sit alone in her parlor, which was decorated in a fashionable, but somewhat miserly style. He also noticed that the majority of the coloring was in shades of pink.

"Would you like something? I think that a cup of tea may be the perfect thing right about now," Emilyanne called from the kitchen, in a monotone voice, attempting to hide her humiliation with working.

"Sure, that sounds fine," Skittery called indifferently, trying to remind himself why he was here. He would admit everything. It was the least he could do for her. Then perhaps she would understand.

Emilyanne came into the parlor, carrying two glasses of tea. Skittery smiled a little when he noticed that the tea was chilled and sweetened. Once a southerner, always a southerner, he supposed.

"You said that you wanted to explain something," Emilyanne said softly, her face bowed. She was still too ashamed of her outburst to look him in the eye. She took a sip of the sweet tea, letting the cool liquid continue to calm her.

"Ok. What I'm about to tell you is the complete truth about my past. I just want you to know that before I begin," Skittery said solemnly, making sure that Emilyanne's eyes caught his in acknowledgement.

"When I was born, my mother was very young and already had one son to care for. She was only twenty-two, and my older brother, Richard, was 6. She didn't have a very good reputation around our neighborhood, if you understand my meaning," Skittery paused, and Emilyanne nodded uncomfortably, shifting in her rose-colored armchair.

"The man that she lived with was almost forty, and was a very abusive alcoholic. He often beat her to the very edge of life itself, and then beg for her forgiveness once he was somewhat sober. She would always brush away his actions, but she soon turned to liquor to heal the pain inflicted upon her. She then became just like him, always whipping us until we cried. Except that she didn't use her fists, she used her words, which was worse. She deteriorated our self-esteem and caused us to fear the outside world. This behavior began when I was born, and continued through the birth of my younger sister, Erin, when I was two, and my entire childhood," Skittery said quietly, a haunted look creeping into his eyes. Emilyanne's shame grew, and tears shown in the corners of her eyes as she began to understand what this young man had had to go through.

"So, my sister and I survived, with my older brother trying to protect us whenever he could. My father died when I was eight, and then my mother left almost a month after that. My brother, who was only fourteen at the time, decided that he would take care of us so that we wouldn't be put in an orphanage. I was sent to school, while he worked in a textile factory. My sister stayed at our tiny flat, spending her time drawing and helping out our neighbors, who had a young baby boy. This sounds like a great solution to our predicament, right?" Skittery said bitterly, but didn't wait for a response. "Well it wasn't. My brother was exactly like my father in every single way. If we disagreed, he would hit us until we said yes to whatever he asked. Erin always wanted to go to school, but Richard thought that women were incompetent fools, just like my father. She was always very intuitive, but Richard didn't see that. All he cared about was getting more money, and slowly made his way from the spinning machine to an office in the factory. Then I turned thirteen. On my birthday, there was a late snow, and school was canceled. I thought that it would be a good time for all of us to talk, so I brought up Erin's schooling at the breakfast table. Anyway, my brother, who was now nineteen, decided to beat me because I defended Erin. So that day I left, and joined up with the Manhattan newsies." Skittery sighed heavily, and rubbed his temples.

" Richard eventually let Erin go to school, but I came home everyday to talk to Erin , making sure that Richard didn't hurt her. I had to come early, though, because I would be in big trouble if he ever caught me. Then, one day, he decided to come home for lunch, and found me with Erin. I guess that he had already been drinking that day, because I had never been flogged that badly by him. Erin only just managed to pry him off me in time for me to escape being killed. The next day, after Richard had left me for dead, Erin called Blink and Bumlets to carry me back to the lodging house. I've never mentioned that night to her again."

Emilyanne's tears flowed unhindered down her cheeks, and she went to sit beside Skittery on the couch. She swallowed hard, but didn't want to interrupt his story with useless comforting. The damage had already been done.

"So, Richard took her out of school for a while, than when he let her go back, he threatened that if I ever saw Erin again, that he would personally make sure that she never went to school again. He even posted people to watch our movements. For a while, I was still afraid for my life, but Erin and I found ways to see each other. She's hoping that after she finishes school she can get out from under Richard's rule, because she won't need his monetary support anymore. I would help her if I could, but I can barely afford to support myself. We just try to meet whenever and wherever we can. And, so, Emilyanne, that is what you have missed," Skittery said, and stood as if to leave, wiping his eyes surreptitiously. Emilyanne gently tugged on his shirt sleeve in order to get him to sit again.

"There are no words to describe how sorry I am," Emilyanne said, a lump rising in her throat, "I just want you to know that I apologize from the bottom of my heart. Please forgive me for putting you in that position tonight. I never meant to hurt you with my words. When I get angry, however unusual that may be, I lose all sense of what to say and what not to say. I would never purposefully harm you."

Skittery nodded sadly, but didn't respond. He got up again to leave, and this time Emilyanne wasn't able to pull him back again. He opened the door, and was about to depart when she caught up with him.

"Please don't leave me for good, Skittery. I don't think you understand how much you mean to me. You're the first true confidant that I have had in this god-forsaken city. I love you too much to allow you to leave and never return," Emilyanne said, almost inaudibly. Skittery heard every word, though. He turned around, to see the brunette twirling a strand of her hair around two fingers, and a tear escaping the confines of her eye.

Without a word, he kissed her gently on the lips, and turned back around to leave. She followed him into the cramped hallway of the apartment building, and just as he was about to leave, he gave her a small smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning."


	18. The Refuge

Dont...own...newsies. Sadness...

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It was a pitch black night with only the dim glow of street lamps to light the cobblestone streets. Two dark figures walked down the street side by side. Neither looked up nor were any words passed between them. One of them stopped outside of an imposing building and stared up at the huge wrought iron gates. "So here it is," Jack said darkly. "The Refuge." He gave a sarcastic laugh. "My home, sweet home."

David stared up at it, feeling shivers run down his back. He wondered how Jack knew Crutchy had been brought here and wasn't aware that he had said anything until Jack replied back, "It's just how things work, you know?"

A voice came out of the darkness, causing both of them to jump. "Y'see, David, the more kids in the Refuge, the more money the city sends to take care of them, the more Snyder sticks in his pocket." Ellen was facing them, eyes red, and still full of tears. "Didja come to get him out, Jack?" She turned to him, eyes full of hope. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"We'll get him out, Ellen. Don't worry."

She nodded and sniffed, "Can I help?" He shook his head.

"Nah." He gave her a reassuring smile and motioned towards David. "Me and Davey's enough. You take care of yourself and we'll have Crutchy outta there before youse can count to ten."

She smiled thinly. "Thanks Jack," she mumbled and receded into the shadows. The clopping of horse hooves caught the boys' ears. Jack grabbed David's arm and shoved him against the wall. "Don't say anythin'," he hissed. They did their best to look inconspicuous even though Jack had a huge coil of rope thrown over his shoulder and was wearing mostly black. A horse drawn cart rolled half-way out the gates before its driver stopped to talk to the guard. Jack tapped David's shoulder before bending down and sneaking through the gates. David looked around cautiously, wondered briefly how he had gotten wrapped up in all this, and followed him. Jack led him around the building, up a rusty fire escape, and onto the roof. David watched in skeptical silence as Jack took the rope off his shoulder and uncoiled it.

"What're you doing?" David whispered. Jack looked up from where he was tying the end to the chimney and snickered.

"What does it look like, Davey?" he asked in a patronizing tone. David frowned.

"No, I know what you're doing, I just want to know why," he replied. Jack smirked.

"Well, you see…"

Jack edged down the side of the building while David slowly lowered him. David bit his lip; the rope was biting into his hands.

"Hold it, Davey!" Jack said as he swung back and forth in front of a window, using his feet to catch the little bit of ledge. He wiped at the dusty window with his coat sleeve.

"Hold it, he tells me," David snarled under his breath, straining to keep the rope where it was. "I am holding it!"

"Keep it tight, Dave," Jack called. David started ranting softly again. Jack rapped gently on the window and a little, blonde-haired boy appeared.

"Hey, Ten Pin," he greeted the kid casually. "You got a new guy in here. Crutchy."

The boy shrugged. "You mean the gimp?" he asked.

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yeah, the gimp."

Ten Pin smiled and walked off, "I'll get 'im for you."

A few moments labor Crutchy, aided by a small Asian boy and Ten Pin, hobbled to the window.

"I don't believe it! I just don't believe it." He exclaimed in amazement, his mouth hanging wide open. Jack smiled; Crutchy was one of those happy-all-the-time-no-matter-what people. When Crutchy realized David was there, he called out to him.

"Heya, Davey!"

"Shhh!" David admonished, looking around in panic to see if anyone had heard them.

Jack smiled, then got down to business. "Listen, Crutchy, go get your stuff. We're gonna get you outta here."

Crutchy shifted from foot to foot uneasily.

"I ain't been walkin' so good lately," he confessed. "Oscar and Morris, they worked me ova a little." Jack was furious.

"They hurt you?" he fumed. Crutchy nodded. Jack looked up at David and thought for a second. "Look, me and Dave'll carry you out out o' here"

"I don't want nobody carrying me, you hear?" Crutchy replied angrily. He sighed. All his life he had gotten pity and sympathetic looks from people. All he wanted was to try to make it on his own, that's why he had become a newsie. That's also why he liked Ellen so much. She respected him and expected him to do just as much as anybody else. She never once remarked on his lameness, yet managed to be considerate with him, often taking it into account when they were doing things.

Jack interrupted his thoughts, saying softy, "Your girl's been waiting, Crutchy. Right now. You should've seen her face. She misses you."

Crutchy's eyes filled with tears, but he shook his head firmly. "No, Jack. I can't; Ellen'll understand."

Jack nodded, "Alright Crutchy."

Crutchy heard a sound at the end of the dingy room. He turned and saw the other kids scrambling to their bunks. He knew what this meant, even though he hadn't been here very long. "Cheese it, Jack!" he whispered, than quickly hobbled towards Snyder, the malevolent warden of the Refuge, striking up a conversation to buy time for Jack to escape.

Ellen came out of the shadows again, peering up hopefully as the two newsies came towards her.

"Crutchy?" she asked, but when she saw only the two of them, she knew any questions would be pointless. He hadn't come. She should have guessed. If he couldn't come out on his own, he wouldn't come at all. But her shoulders still slumped with disappointment.

"I'm sorry." Jack put his arm around her. "He didn't want to come if he couldn't do it on his own," he stated, confirming her guess.

"It's okay. I know you tried." She looked up at that distant window, staring at the shadowy figure within. "I was just being silly. I need more sense in this head of mine." She smiled weakly, trying to show Jack that he hadn't failed her.

Jack smiled gently and tugged one of her blonde curls. "Nah. You got plenty of sense; grief makes idiots out o' all o' us." He looked up also, thinking about Crutchy and how unfair the world often seemed. He hefted the rope back onto his shoulder. "You guys ready to go?" David and Ellen both nodded and the three walked back down the street in companionable silence.


	19. Dark of the Night

I always feel so depressed writing that we don't own Newsies, which, by the way, we don't. But...I'd feel better if there were reviews on if the story was doin' okay or not. Then I'd know that all these heart-wrenching disclaimers weren't for nothin'. : )

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When she woke up, it was pitch black except for a dim glow from a lamp. Daydream huddled against the wall, trying not to make a sound. The alley was no longer unoccupied. She heard loud voices on the other side of the crates.

"…'s what he wants you to do," a man ended. There was a snort of disbelief.

"Dat's all? Knock off a bunch of kids?" A dark rumble of a chuckle. "Dat's a piece of pie."

"It's 'piece of cake', you idiot," another voice snapped. It was a slimy tone and Daydream took an automatic dislike to it. "How much will we get?"

"The usual. Half now and the rest later," the first voice replied. "And you don't need to worry about the police, they've already been taken care of."

"Good, good," was the response. Daydream, trying to be brave, peeked out from behind the crates. There were three men in the alley. One was dressed in an upper class suit; he looked out of place beside the two rough-hewn men he was standing beside. Both had unshaven faces but one was shorter than the other. The taller one looked like a gorilla wrapped in muscles he was so huge. The other looked like a snake ready to strike, his hair greased back into a severe ponytail. Daydream covered her mouth as she recognized him to be Cottonmouth, the leader of the Crib, a smash-n-grab gang of thugs that worked as mercenaries. They had territory on both sides of the East River. She sunk back down and hoped they would not notice her.

"It's a deal then?" the well-dressed man asked.

"Of course," Cottonmouth said. "An easier job couldn't be found."

"Be at the World Distribution Center early tomorrow morning, then." Daydream clamped both hands over her mouth, trying not to cry out. The Distribution Center ! They were going to soak the newsies. There was the soft sound of money switching hands then retreating footsteps. Half the lamplight went with it, dousing the alleyway with more shadows. The Crib members were still there though, so Daydream stayed down.

"S'gonna be an easy one, boss," the big man exclaimed. He sounded excited. "Go in, bust some kiddie skulls wit'out the bulls carin', get out wit' the dough."

"How perfectly ridiculously put, O'Connell," said Cottonmouth. A rat ran by and Daydream moved her leg, making a scuffling noise. Both voices went silent then there was a barely audible whisper. Terrified, she froze, staring at the crates in front of her. Clomping footsteps came towards her along with the light of the lamp. She sent up a quick prayer to God and waited, her heart pounding so hard against her chest she thought it would give her away. The lamp swung over her head.

"Nobody's dere, boss," O'Connell announced. "Probably just some damn cat." He walked back towards the small man. Cottonmouth threw one last look at the crates before leaving the alley, his henchman following behind him.

Daydream watched their lamplight drift away. Closing her eyes, she waited until the last echoes of their voices had faded before sliding out from behind the crates. She was trembling from the close call. She paused a minute, regaining her composure, then crept to the mouth of the alley. The Crib leader and his man were gone. This far into the slums most of the lamps lights were neglected, throwing the street into mostly darkness. Daydream was chewed on her fingernails, breathing hard. She should get help. Warn somebody! But Manhattan was so far away now. Brooklyn , and Spot, was closer. This would be her chance to persuade Spot into joining the strike. Brooklynites always loved a good fight.


End file.
